THE   STORY   OF 

OUR  ARMY 

WI'L'V    .-,.  ABBOT 


»'.    '  "'*« 


THE  STORY  OF 

OUR  ARMY 


From  Colonial  Days  to  the 
Present  Time 


BY 

WILLIS  JOHN  ABBOT 

Author  of  The  Blue  Jacket   Series,  The  Battlefield  Series, 
The  Story  of  Our  Navy,   Panama  and  the  Canal,  etc. 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS 


VOL.  I 


NEW  YORK 
DODD.   MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


h 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


THE   QUINN    &    BODEN    CO.    PJKB8 
RAHWAY.    N.    J. 


CONTENTS— VOL.  I 


CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Beginnings  of  Revolution — Lexington  and  Concord — The 
British  Beleaguered  in  Boston— The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  .       i 


CHAPTER   II 

Creation  of  the  Army — Siege  of  Boston — Taking  of  Ticon- 
deroga — Expedition  Against  Quebec— The  British  Evacuate 
Boston 26 


CHAPTER   III 

The  New  York  Campaign— Operations  in  New  Jersey— Battles 
of  Trenton  and  Princeton— Creation  of  a  Regular  Army     .     53 


CHAPTER   IV 

Character  of  General  Burgoyne — His  Expedition  into  New 
York— Capture  of  Ticonderoga— Battle  of  Bennington— 
Battle  of  Oriskany — Surrender  of  the  British  at  Saratoga  .     71 


CHAPTER   V 

Howe  Moves  to  Philadelphia — Washington's  Defence  of  that 
City — Battles  of  the  Brandywine  and  Germantown — Battle 
of  Fort  Mifflin — The  Winter  at  Valley  Forge — Clinton's 
Retreat 92 


CHAPTER   VI 

The  Wyoming  Massacre — Services  of  George  Rogers  Clark — 
The  War  in  the  South— The  French  at  Savannah— Defeat  at 
Camden — The  Victory  at  King's  Mountain 124 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  Taking  of  Stony  Point  and  Paulus  Hook— The  Treason  of 
Arnold  and  the  Execution  of  Andre 154 


38020 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Battle  of  the  Cowpens— Cornwallis  Retires  to  Virginia- 
Lafayette's  Pertinacious  Pursuit — Approach  of  the  French 
Fleet— The  Surrender  at  Yorktown— The  Continental  Army 
Disbanded I72 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  War  of  1812 — Lack  of  Military  Resources — Reverses  on 
the  Canadian  Border — Battle  of  Queenstown — Cockburn  on 
the  Chesapeake — The  Capture  of  Washington — Battle  of 
New  Orleans— The  Treaty  of  Ghent 104 

CHAPTER  X 

The  War  with  Mexico — Strengthening  the  Regular  Army — 
General  Taylor  in  Mexico — Battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca 
de  la  Palma — General  Scott's  Invasion — Capture  of  the  City 
of   Mexico 241 

CHAPTER  XI 

The  War  Between  the  States— The  Right  to  Secede— Eleven 
States  Leave  the  Union — Who  Owned  National  Property? — 
Anderson  at  Fort  Sumter — Virginia  Invaded — Death  of  Ells- 
worth         283 

CHAPTER  XII 

"On  to  Richmond" — The  Army  Advances  into  Virginia — The 
Problem  Confronting  General  McDowell — Patterson  and 
Jackson  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley — The  Battle  of  Bull  Run 
—Jackson  Wins  the  Title  "  Stonewall  "—Defeat  of  the 
Union  Army — Panic  in  Washington 302 

CHAPTER  XIII 

The  War  in  the  West — Lyon's  Fight  for  Missouri  and  His 
Death — Grant  First  Appears — His  Capture  of  Forts  Henry 
and  Donelson— Encouragement  to  the  Union  Cause      .       .318 

CHAPTER  XIV 

The  War  in  the  East — Operations  by  Sea  and  the  Capture  of 
New  Orleans— Battle  of  Ball's  Bluff— General  McClellan  in 
Command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — Opening  of  the 
Peninsular  Campaign — Battle  of  Seven  Pines   ....  336 

CHAPTER  XV 

Jackson's  Shenandoah  Campaign — The  Seven  Days  Before  Rich- 
mond— Battle  of  Mechanicsville — Battle  of  Malvern  Hill — 
Withdrawal  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 356 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

VOL.  I 

The  Battle  of   Bunker  Hill Frontispiece 

Minute  Men  at  Lexington     .       .       .              .       .  Facing  page    24 

Molly  Pitcher  at  Monmouth " 

Bombardment  of  Vera  Cruz       .       .       ...  " 

Battle  of  Mexico  City 

Pittsburg  Landing,  Tennessee 

The  Work  of  Federal  Shells 

Letters  Home " 

At  the  Siege  of  Santiago " 

Arbitration  in  the  Trenches  near  Manila       .       .  " 

American  Artillery  Entering  Ponce,  P.  R.     .       .  " 

Colonel  Roosevelt  and  His  Rough  Riders     .       .  " 

Charging  the  Filipinos " 

The  Bridge  at  Poranaque      ......  " 

A  Regiment  as  It  Is M 

A  Regiment  as  It  Should  Be 


48 
72 
96 
120 
144 
168 
192 
216 
240 
264 
288 
312 
336 
360 


THE  STORY  OF  OUR  ARMY 
VOL.   I 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Beginnings  of  Revolution — Lexington  and  Concord — The  Brit- 
ish Beleaguered  in  Boston — The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 

Two  lanterns  gleaming  in  the  belfry  of  the  Old  North 
Church,  which  still  stands  looking  down  upon  the 
Copp's  Hill  burying  ground  in  Boston  and  upon  the 
huddled  homes  of  innumerable  Italians  who  have  made 
that  part  of  the  ancient  American  city  their  home,  sig- 
nalled the  beginning  of  the  American  Revolution. 
Their  flickering  light  faintly  illumined  the  birth  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

On  the  farther  shore  of  the  tidal  River  Charles,  on 
that  midnight  of  April  18,  1775,  stood  Paul  Revere, 
a  young  engraver  of  Boston,  who  had  been  often  used 
as  a  courier  by  the  Committee  of  Safety,  which  had 
been  formed  among  the  Colonists  to  resist  British 
aggressions.  It  was  vague  rumor  that  the  British,  long 
cooped  up  in  Boston,  would  move  that  night  to  Lex- 
ington and  Concord  to  destroy  the  munitions  of  war 
that  the  Colonists  had  gathered  there  in  distrust  of 
what  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  them.  More 
than  that  it  was  the  British  purpose  to  seize  the  bodies 
of  two  "  pestilent  agitators,"  John  Hancock,  whose 
name  was  afterward  writ  large  at  the  head  of  the 
signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  stout 
Sam  Adams,  who  deserves  if  does  any  man  the  title  of 
"  Father  of  the  American  Revolution." 

Foot  in  stirrup  through  hours  of  darkness  Revere 


2  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

''  Watched  with  eage?  search 
The  belfry  tower  of  the  Old  North  Church 
As  it  rose  above  the  graves  on  the  hill, 
Lonely  and  spectral,  and  sombre  and  still, 
And  lo !  as  he  looks  on  the  belfry's  height, 
A  glimmer  and  then  a  gleam  of  light; 
He  springs  to  the  saddle,  the  bridle  he  turns, 
But  lingers  and  gazes  till  full  on  his  sight 
A  second  light  in  the  belfry  burns." 

Every  American  child  knows  Longfellow's  poem  and 
the  story  of  the  alarm,  the  march  out  from  Boston  and 
the  headlong  retreat,  the  volley  on  the  village  green 
at  Lexington,  and  how  "  the  British  regulars  fired  and 
fled."  We  know  now,  however,  that  picturesque  as 
was  Revere's  wild  ride  through  the  silent  night  with 
door-knockings  and  alarm-shouts  at  sleeping  farms,  it 
was  only  part  of  the  system  of  spreading  the  warning 
which  the  Colonists  had  devised  in  those  days  before 
railroads  and  telegraphs.  At  Rev.  Jonas  Clark's  house, 
near  Medford,  Hancock  and  Adams  were  staying  with 
a  guard  of  eight  Minute  Men.  At  Revere's  clamor 
the  sergeant  came  out  demanding  "  less  noise." 
"  Noise !  "  shouted  Revere,  "  you'll  have  noise  enough 
before  long.  The  regulars  are  coming  out." 

The  main  body  of  the  British,  an  entire  brigade 
under  command  of  Major  Smith,  was  slow  in  moving. 
A  small  detachment,  six  companies  under  Major  Pit- 
cairn,  was  rushed  forward  to  seize  and  hold  Concord 
Bridge  and  to  hold  up  all  wayfarers  or  couriers  who 
might  rouse  the  country-side.  Dismal  was  the  failure 
of  the  latter  effort.  As  Smith  moved  more  leisurely 
along  the  highway  he  heard  alarm  bells  ringing,  cannon 
and  muskets  being  fired,  and  the  shouts  of  men  calling 
to  each  other  far  across  the  fields.  He  had  expected  a 
holiday  march  and  he  confronted  a  whole  people  rushing 
to  arms.  Straightway  he  sent  back  to  Boston  for  rein- 
forcements. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS  3 

Pitcairn,  some  miles  in  advance,  reached  Lexington 
at  sunrise.  Under  the  fresh  clear  light  of  a  June 
morning  the  little  village,  with  its  white-steepled  church 
and  simple  colonial  houses  bordering  the  verdant  green, 
seemed  a  picture  of  rural  peace.  But  back  of  all  lurked 
war.  Two  hours  before  a  farmer,  eluding  Pitcairn, 
had  reached  the  town  bringing  tidings  of  the  invasion. 
The  Minute  Men  had  assembled,  but  so  slow  had  been 
the  British  advance  that  they  had  thought  the  expedi- 
tion abandoned,  and  had  retired  to  the  tavern  and 
neighboring  houses  for  their  breakfast.  Now  at  the 
roll  of  the  British  drums  all  flocked  out,  forming  an 
irregular  line  on  the  green,  some  132  of  them  under 
command  of  Captain  John  Parker. 

"  Disperse,  ye  rebels !  Disperse !  "  shouted  Pitcairn 
from  his  horse.  None  thought  of  obeying.  All  stood 
irresolute,  for  to  both  sides  the  orders  not  to  be  the 
first  to  fire  had  been  absolute.  Who  broke  the  com- 
mand? Nobody  knows  exactly,  but  it  appears  that  an 
American  pulled  trigger  producing  only  a  flash  in  the 
pan.  Enough  that,  however,  to  justify  a  soldier  in 
replying.  Then  there  was  a  regular  volley  from  the 
troops,  and  a  few  straggling  shots  from  "  the  embat- 
tled farmers."  All  was  over  in  a  few  minutes — save 
for  the  families  of  the  17  Americans  lying  dead  or 
wounded  on  the  bloody  sward.  Pitcairn,  who  had 
no  liking  for  his  work,  insists  that  the  Americans  fired 
first  and  he  strove  in  every  way  to  stop  the  fire  of  his 
men,  but  the  shooting  was  continued  as  long  as  a 
militiaman  remained  in  sight.  Parker,  the  American 
commander,  was  wounded  at  the  first  volley,  but  con- 
tinued to  fight  and  was  slain  by  a  bayonet-thrust.  One, 
who  in  years  bygone  had  carried  the  British  flag  in  the 
victorious  assault  on  Louisbourg,  was  shot  down  and 
bayoneted  to  death.  Another  dragged  himself  across 
the  green  to  die  in  his  wife's  arms  on  his  vine-clad 


4  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

porch.     War  was  new,  but  very  close  to  the  homes  of 
those  simple,  country-faring  folk. 

Major  Pitcairn  waited  a  space  for  Smith  to  come 
up  and  then  proceeded  toward  Concord.  The  hue  and 
cry  went  forth  before  him.  The  militia  and  citizens, 
hundreds  of  whom  had  by  this  time  assembled,  began 
diligently  the  work  of  concealing  the  stores  gathered  at 
that  town.  While  thus  engaged  they  received  word 
that  the  British  in  numbers  of  three  to  one  were  within 
two  miles  and  approaching  speedily.  Thereupon  the 
Americans  took  up  positions  from  which  they  could 
watch  the  proceedings,  it  being  determined  to  make  no 
resistance  until  reinforcements  should  arrive,  for  the 
British  were  over  800  strong. 

For  two  hours  the  Redcoats  had  their  will  in  Con- 
cord. Most  of  the  ammunition  and  supplies  they 
sought  had  been  removed  to  the  surrounding  woods, 
but  they  broke  up  three  twenty-pound  cannon,  spilled 
a  quantity  of  flour  and  burned  several  barrels  of 
wooden  spoons  and  trenchers  from  which  the  warlike 
farmers  had  expected  to  eat  their  porridge  in  the  field. 
All  the  while  militia  and  Minute  Men  were  flocking  in 
singly  and  by  companies.  Dcdham  sent  every  able- 
bodied  citizen  between  sixteen  and  seventy  and  before 
they  started  their  march  the  minister  of  the  village 
church  invoked  divine  blessings  upon  their  errand. 
Throughout  this  war  of  a  peaceful  people  for  their 
independence  we  find  the  ministers  ready  to  bless  the 
arms  and  then  to  wield  them;  as  earnest  in  spurring 
on  the  living  as  in  praying  by  the  side  of  the  slain. 

When  the  number  of  Americans  in  the  field 
approached  450  it  was  determined  to  dislodge  the 
British  guard  from  the  North  Bridge.  About  300 
were  despatched  for  this  purpose,  and  the  guard 
though  outnumbered,  prepared  both  for  resistance 
and  to  take  up   the  planks   of  the   structure.     The 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS  5 

provincials  hesitated  not  an  instant.  "  It  is  the  King's 
highway  and  we  have  a  right  to  march  on  it  if  we 
march  to  Boston.  Forward  men,  forward !  "  cried 
Major  Barrett,  voicing  the  New  England  insistence  on 
lawful  rights.  The  British  fired  and  two  American 
soldiers  fell.  "  Fire,  fellow-soldiers  I  For  God's  sake, 
fire!  "  shouted  Major  Buttrick  and  the  American  arms 
spoke  in  response.  The  provincials  swept  on  across 
the  bridge  and  its  defenders  retreated.  One  of  them 
was  killed  by  a  farmer's  boy  with  a  hatchet,  from  which 
spread  a  persistent  rumor  that  the  Americans,  like  the 
barbarous  Indians,  scalped  and  mutilated  their  fallen 
foes.  The  bridge  was  now  in  the  hands  of  the  de- 
fenders of  American  liberty — the  bridge  destined  to 
become  a  national  shrine  commemorated  by  Emerson 
in  his  ode  beginning, 

"  By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood, 
Their  flag  to  April's  breeze  unfurled ; 
Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood 
And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world." 

Then  began  the  British  retreat  that  soon  became  a 
disorderly  flight.  The  troops  were  veterans,  men  who 
had  served  in  the  British  wars  with  France  and  the 
peoples  of  Continental  Europe.  For  arms  they  were 
well  equipped,  for  uniforms  rather  too  well,  for  their 
heavy  scarlet  coats,  towering  hats  or  shakos,  and  heavy 
knapsacks  put  them  at  a  sore  disadvantage  in  dealing 
with  the  countrymen  who  came  flocking  from  every 
side  in  shirt-sleeves,  armed  with  long  hunting  rifles  in 
the  use  of  which  they  had  been  well  trained,  and 
schooled  in  Indian  wars  not  to  disdain  the  shelter  of 
tree-trunks  and  stone-walls.  "  They  seemed  to  drop 
from  the  clouds,"  wrote  a  British  officer.  For  a  time 
the  fugitives  strove  to  maintain  a  certain  military  for- 
mation; sending  out  flanking  parties  on  either  side  and 


6  STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

maintaining  a  rear  guard.  This  effort  was  soon  aban- 
doned, and  the  road  was  crowded  with  a  dense  column 
of  weary,  dejected  men  hobbling,  walking,  and  running 
back  toward  Lexington.  At  that  spot,  where  a  few 
hours  before  they  had  shot  down  the  farmers  who 
dared  dispute  their  passage,  they  now  hoped  to  be 
saved  from  annihilation  by  the  reinforcements  on  the 
way  from  Boston  under  command  of  Lord  Percy. 

The  Americans  had  no  military  formation.     They 
had  officers,  but  every  man  was  a  commander  unto 
himself.     Men  were  there  who  had  scaled  the  Heights 
of  Abraham  at  Quebec  under  Wolfe;  had  fought  the 
French  at  Louisbourg,  and  the  Indians  in  defence  of 
their  homes  and  firesides.     Long  years  they  had  fol- 
lowed the  British  flag;  now  their  wrath  was  levelled 
against  it.     The  road  was  bordered  by  stone-walls, 
woods,  and  dense  thickets  of  underbrush.     Every  such 
shelter  was  full  of  American  marksmen  trained  from 
boyhood  to  pick  off  a  squirrel  with  a  rifle  bullet  from 
the  highest  tree-top.     The  enemy  marched  fast  along 
the^    sinuous    road,    leaving    his    dead   and   wounded 
behind,  and  the  Americans  after  striking  him  from  one 
thicket  would  take  the  short  cut  across  the  fields  and 
lay  in  wait  at  the  next  point  where  the  woods  grew 
densest.     At    times    the    fighting    was    hand-to-hand, 
though  as  the  Americans  had  no  bayonets  they  avoided 
thu*      At   Fiske's   HI11   two   fighters   confronted   each 
other.    "  You  are  a  dead  man !  "  said  the  British  soldier 
as  he  levelled  his  gun  at  an  American.     "And  so  are 
you,"  responded  the  other.    The  shots  rang  out.    Both 
fell,  one  dead,  the  other  mortally  wounded. 

Panting  from  heat  and  exertion,  their  heavy  knap- 
sacks and  trappings  thrown  away,  too  panic-stricken 
even  to  defend  themselves,  the  defeated  soldiers  ran 
on  until  at  Lexington  they  found  Lord  Percy's  timely 
reinforcements  drawn  up  in  a  hollow  square  to  receive 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS  7 

and  to  succor  them.  It  was  none  too  early.  "  They 
were  so  much  exhausted  with  fatigue,"  writes  a  British 
historian,  "  that  they  were  obliged  to  lie  down  for 
rest  on  the  ground,  their  tongues  hanging  out  of  their 
mouths  like  dogs  after  a  chase."  There  they  lay  and 
rested  for  some  two  hours.  Percy  had  one  thousand 
fresh  men  and  two  field  pieces  with  which  for  a  time 
he  held  the  Americans  in  check. 

Percy's  appearance  saved  the  British  force  from  ab- 
ject surrender  or  annihilation.     Yet  when  Colonel  Smith 
set  out  from  Boston  that  June  morning  he  anticipated 
nothing  but  a  holiday  march  with  a  bonfire  of  "  rebel " 
goods  and  storehouses  as  a  diversion.     When  he  saw 
the  countrymen  swarming  out,  rifle  in  hand,  he  vaguely 
scented  danger  and  luckily  sent  back  for  aid.     Lord 
Percy,  ordered  to  his  assistance,  marched  out  from  Bos- 
ton about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  with  two  cannon, 
three  regiments  and  two  divisions  of  marines.     His 
bands  were  playing  "  Yankee  Doodle  "  in  derision  of 
the  Americans.     A  school-boy  shouted  the  apt  retort, 
"You  march  out  to  Yankee  Doodle,  but  you'll  run 
back  to  Chevy  Chase."    The  allusion  was  to  the  famous 
ballad  of  Chevy  Chase  which  tells  of  the  woful  defeat 
of  an  early  Earl  Percy  on  the  field  of  that  name.     If 
the  school-boys  were  ready  to  jeer  the  foe,  the  school- 
teachers, like  the  ministers,  were  ready  to  do  battle  with 
him.     Lovell,  the  master  of  that  Latin  School  which 
has  been  Boston's  pride  for  a  century  and  a  half,  heard 
the  tramp  of  the  marching  Redcoats.     "  War's  begun. 
School's  done.     Dimitite  libros,"  quoth  he  and  slam- 
ming his  desk  went  forth  to  join  the  populace.    When 
Percy's  column  reached  Roxbury,   one  Williams,  the 
local    school-master,     looked     out    of    his    window. 
"  School's  out,  boys,"  he  said,  and  locking  his  door  went 
for  his  musket  and  so  away  to  join  the  Minute  Men. 
He  served  through  the  seven  years  of  Revolution. 


8  STORYOFOURARMY 

Though  he  had  nearly  1,800  effective  men  and 
two  field  pieces,  Lord  Percy  made  no  effort  to 
turn  upon  the  undisciplined  Americans  who  had  used 
his  regulars  so  ill.  Instead,  after  a  two  hours' 
rest  he  took  up  once  more  the  retreat.  Again 
the  Americans  swarmed  upon  his  flanks  and  surged 
against  the  rear  of  his  retreating  column.  Now 
and  then  the  artillery  beat  them  back,  for  as 
yet  the  Minute  Men  were  not  well  used  to  great 
guns.  But  they  rallied  again  and  again  to  the  attack, 
and  were  never  fiercer  in  their  fighting  than  when, 
just  at  sundown,  Percy's  men  rushed  across  the  narrow 
causeway  that  connected  Charlestown  with  the  main- 
land and  sank  down  safe  under  the  protecting  guns  of 
the  British  men-of-war.  It  was  just  the  critical 
moment.  George  Washington,  writing  later  of  the 
battle  said,  "  If  the  retreat  had  not  been  as  precipitate 
as  it  was — and  God  knows  it  could  not  have  been  more 
so — the  ministerial  troops  must  have  surrendered,  or 
been  totally  cut  off.  For  they  had  not  arrived  in 
Charlestown  (under  cover  of  their  ships)  half  an  hour 
before  a  powerful  body  of  men  from  Marblehead  and 
Salem  was  at  their  heels  and  must,  if  they  had  happened 
to  be  up  one  hour  sooner,  inevitably  have  intercepted 
their  retreat  to  Charlestown." 

In  this  action  the  British  lost  73  killed,  174  wounded, 
and  26  missing;  the  Americans,  49  killed  and  39 
wounded.  But  the  British  had  lost  the  day  and  their 
prestige  as  invincible  veterans.  The  American  farmers 
had  shown  the  world  that  they  not  only  could  but 
would  fight.  They  had  learned  that  a  red  coat  did  not 
make  its  wearer  invulnerable  nor,  of  necessity,  cover  a 
stout  heart.  The  Minute  Men  had  shown  that  though 
they  did  not  always  march  to  drum  and  trumpet, 
though  hickory  shirts  and  caps  rather  than  scarlet  and 
bearskins  were  their  uniform,  they  could  be  relied  upon 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS  9 

to  be  where  they  were  needed  and  to  maintain  them- 
selves against  all  comers.  In  England  the  news  of  the 
action  caused  dismay,  a  fall  of  stocks,  and  savage  criti- 
cism of  Lord  Percy  and  his  officers.  In  America  it 
solidified  the  Colonists  into  a  cooperating  whole. 

The  British  lingered  but  briefly  in  Charlestown  and 
then  returned  to  Boston.  Around  that  city  gathered  some 
sixteen  thousand  armed  Americans,  intent  upon  keeping 
the  enemy  bottled  up  in  the  town.  All  the  surrounding 
country-side  was  swept  clear  of  provisions,  and  even 
the  islands  in  the  harbor  were  reduced  for  the  time 
to  deserts.  Efforts  to  provision  the  garrison  by  water 
were  frustrated  in  several  cases.  All  the  time  skirmish- 
ing was  going  on  by  land  or  water.  Now  the 
provincials  would  put  out  in  boats  and  burn  a  schooner, 
or  raid  one  of  the  channel  islands  where  food  was 
thought  to  be  available  for  the  beleaguered  British. 
Then  the  enemy  would  retaliate  by  the  seizure  of 
Yankee  ships  and  provisions.  There  was  sharp  skir- 
mishing throughout,  which  was  of  service  in  accustom- 
ing the  untrained  farmers  to  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  battle.  But  throughout  this  process  of  starving 
the  British  garrison  into  subjection,  the  peaceful  inhabi- 
tants of  Boston  suffered  equally  with  those  who  wore 
the  red.  Great  distress  spread  among  them.  They 
had  no  means  of  support,  for  all  the  customary  indus- 
tries of  the  town  were  destroyed.  Their  friends  and 
relations  were  in  the  trenches  outside,  exposed  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  life  in  the  field  and  all  the  perils  of  war. 
A  great  body  of  troops  were  quartered  upon  them,  and 
more  were  on  the  seas  bound  for  Boston.  The  Ameri- 
can people  long  had  hatred  of  the  professional  soldier, 
and  the  action  of  George  III  in  quartering  troops  upon 
the  colonies  was  one  of  the  grievances  set  forth  in  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  In  Boston,  even  before 
the    outbreak   of   hostilities,    her   thrifty,    work-a-day 


io  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

citizens  were  unable  to  understand  this  body  of  scarlet- 
coated  men  loafing  the  days  away  on  the  Common  or 
in  King  Street.  That  an  able-bodied  man  should  be 
able  to  earn  a  living  simply  by  being  prepared  for  a 
war  which  might  never  come,  was  incomprehensible 
to  the  average  American.  Years  later  the  Count 
Rochambeau,  who  had  come  as  a  volunteer  from  France 
to  fight  for  American  liberties,  used  to  tell  with  amuse- 
ment how  people  would  ask  him  what  he  did  for  a 
living  at  home  when  there  were  no  wars.  This  instinc- 
tive distrust  of  the  regular-army  man  has  been  one  of 
the  strongest  features  of  the  American  character,  and 
it  is  part  of  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  show  how  it 
has  been  gradually  overcome  by  the  good  work  of  our 
United  States  Army  in  peace  as  well  as  in  war. 

But  to  return  to  Gage  and  the  British  in  Boston. 
Seeing  that  he  could  scarce  feed  his  own  troops  and 
hopeless  of  alleviating  the  distress  of  the  civilians,  the 
General  began  granting  passes  to  such  of  the  latter  as 
desired  to  leave  the  city.  Some  thousands,  mostly 
sympathizers  with  the  revolutionary  cause,  thereupon 
went  out.  But  the  "  Tories,"  as  those  who  supported 
the  cause  of  the  king  were  called,  protested  that  this 
was  in  fact  reenforcing  the  "  rebel  "  army,  and  the 
permission  was  gradually  withdrawn.  Then  Gage,  fear- 
ing an  American  assault  and  that  the  citizens  would 
make  common  cause  with  the  assailants,  forced  a  gen- 
eral disarmament.  Some  thousands  of  firearms  were 
given  up,  and  a  curious  light  was  thrown  upon  the 
habits  of  the  time  by  the  fact  that  there  was  about  one 
weapon  to  each  able-bodied  inhabitant.  That  was  the 
reason  why  the  Colonists  were  able  to  maintain  them- 
selves against  the  British  troops,  and  why  years  later 
the  statesmen  of  the  infant  nation  wrote  into  its  con- 
stitution that  the  right  of  the  people  to  bear  arms  shall 
not  be  abridged. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         n 

Historians  and  students  of  military  tactics  have 
always  wondered  why  General  Gage,  instead  of  trying 
to  ameliorate  his  situation  with  makeshift  expedients, 
did  not  cut  his  way  through  the  American  lines,  roll 
them  back  to  this  side  and  that,  and  open  communi- 
cation with  the  country  and  its  plenteous  store  of  food. 
He  was  outnumbered  to  be  sure,  but  he  could  concen- 
trate his  whole  force  in  overwhelming  power  at  any 
fixed  point  faster  than  the  Patriots  could  gather  troops 
from  their  widely  extended  lines.  Moreover,  the 
Americans,  though  numerically  stronger,  were  ill- 
equipped  and  wholly  undisciplined.  They  had  no  heavy 
siege  guns,  few  bayonets,  and  their  muskets  were  not 
of  one  standard  and  required  ammunition  of  varying 
sizes.  The  militia  was  gathered  from  several  colonies, 
zealous  and  patriotic  no  doubt,  but  each  body  tenacious 
of  its  own  independence  and  recognizing  no  supreme 
command.  Every  feature  of  the  situation  should  have 
called  upon  Gage  to  rouse  his  troops  and  sweep  away 
these  "  peasants  "  who  beleaguered  him.  Instead  he 
sat  supine  in  his  headquarters  and  even  after  a  British 
fleet  had  brought  Generals  Burgoyne,  Clinton  and 
Howe  to  his  aid  with  nearly  ten  thousand  fresh  troops, 
he  still  awaited  the  American  attack. 

As  his  ship  was  entering  Boston,  General  Burgoyne 
asked  how  many  regulars  there  were  in  Boston. 

"  About  five  thousand,"  was  the  response. 

"  What !  "  cried  the  General,  "  ten  thousand  peasants 
keep  five  thousand  King's  troops  shut  up!  Well,  let 
US  get  in  and  we'll  soon  find  elbow-room." 

The  General  got  in  but  he  never  found  elbow-room, 
for  he  only  left  Boston  in  defeat.  But  the  phrase 
stuck  to  him,  much  to  his  irritation.  Later,  after  re- 
verses in  Canada,  he  was  brought  back  to  Boston  a 
prisoner  of  war.  As  he  was  boarding  the  ferry-boat 
at  Charlestown  an  aged  crone  perched  on  a  near-by 


12  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

shed  shrilled  out,"  Make  way  I  make  way!  The  Gen- 
eral's coming.     Give  him  elbow-room." 

In  the  end,  instead  of  Gage's  moving  to  free  his 
troops  from  the  Boston  peninsula,  the  Americans  struck 
first.  Charlestown,  the  spot  at  which  Lord  Percy's  col- 
umn fleeing  from  Lexington  had  found  refuge,  was  a 
hilly  peninsula  jutting  out  from  the  mainland  to  which 
it  was  joined  by  a  neck  so  narrow  that  one  standing  in 
the  centre  could  toss  a  stone  into  the  Charles  River  on 
the  one  hand,  the  Mystic  on  the  other.  Two  hills, 
Breed's  and  Bunker's,  rose  near  the  centre  of  the  penin- 
sula; the  former  being  high  and  much  nearer  Boston. 
At  the  foot  of  Breed's  Hill  nestled  in  1775  a  little 
wooden  town  of  a  thousand  houses  or  so.  Now  a  great 
city  packs  its  factories,  shops,  tenements,  and  homes 
closely  about  the  verdant  eminence,  on  the  crest  of 
which  the  American  people  have  erected  a  towering 
granite  monument  in  commemoration  of  what,  by  com- 
mon consent,  is  deemed  the  first  pitched  battle  of  the 
American  Revolution. 

Notwithstanding  Gage's  hesitancy  and  inaction  the 
watchful  Americans  became  convinced  in  June,  1775, 
that  he  was  planning  a  hostile  move.  What,  in  fact, 
he  was  contemplating  was  a  move  to  the  southeast  of 
Boston  and  the  seizure  of  Dorchester  Heights  which, 
if  fortified  by  the  Americans,  would  give  them  control 
of  the  town.  With  an  uneasy  sense  that  something — 
none  knew  what — was  doing  with  the  enemy,  the 
American  Committee  of  Safety  determined  to  strike 
first.  The  offensive  move  they  made  was  the  fortifica- 
tion of  Breed's  Hill,  just  a  mile  from  the  church  where 
the  Revere  lanterns  had  hung,  and  commanding  the 
north  end  of  the  city. 

At  nine  o'clock  on  the  night  of  Friday,  June  16", 
the  common  in  Cambridge,  under  shadow  of  Harvard 
College,  witnessed  the  muster  of  about  two  hundred 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         13 

provincial  troops,  including  a  company  of  artillery 
with  two  field  pieces,  all  under  command  of  Colonel 
William  Prescott,  whose  grandson  gave  to  the  writing 
of  American  history  the  fervor  and  genius  that  the 
grandsire  gave  to  the  making  of  it.  Prescott  was 
among  the  most  earnest  of  Massachusetts  patriots. 
Some  months  before  this  occasion,  his  brother-in-law, 
Colonel  Willard,  expostulated  with  him  for  his  open 
patriotism,  saying  that  if  persisted  in,  his  life  and  estate 
would  pay  the  forfeiture  of  treason.  "  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  upon  that  subject,"  he  replied.  "  I  think 
it  probable  I  may  be  found  in  arms,  but  I  will  never 
be  taken  alive.  The  Tories  shall  never  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  me  taken  alive." 

On  this  June  night  Colonel  Prescott  had  orders  in  his 
pocket  to  seize  and  fortify  Bunker  Hill — orders  not  to 
be  made  public  until  his  column  had  safely  crossed  the 
narrow  neck.  And  so,  when  the  venerable  President 
of  Harvard  College  had  offered  an  eloquent  prayer  for 
the  soldiers  and  their  cause,  the  column  set  out,  silently, 
without  drum  or  talk,  the  intrenching  tools  carried  in 
ox-carts  at  the  rear;  the  van  led  by  two  sergeants  with 
dark  lanterns  whose  fitful  flashes  lighted  up  the  way  to 
the  battle  field — faint  gleams  indeed,  but  destined  to 
light  up  a  historic  conflict. 

Arrived  at  the  field  there  was  dispute  about  the 
course  to  be  taken.  The  orders  read  plainly  enough 
14  Bunker  Hill,"  but  Breed's  was  high  and  nearer 
to  Boston.  Contention  ran  high  until  the  engineer 
officers  pointed  out  that  if  debate  continued  the  works 
could  not  be  completed  until  daybreak  when  the  British 
on  their  ships  in  the  river  below  or  in  camp  on  Copp's 
Hill  opposite,  would  check  work  with  their  cannon. 
So  Breed's  Hill  was  chosen,  but  the  battle,  and 
eventually  the  hill,  took  its  name  from  the  origi- 
nal    orders.       The     fortification     planned     was     a 


i4  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

rough  quadrangle  with  a  wing  running  off  one 
side  toward  the  Mystic  River.  It  was  a  stout 
earthwork  about  six  feet  high  with  a  trench  in  front, 
and  a  wooden  platform  behind  on  which  the  defenders 
were  to  stand  while  firing.  Pick,  shovel,  and  mattock, 
tools  with  which  the  militant  farmers  were  familiar, 
were  plied  with  zeal  and  the  fort  began  to  assume 
rough  form  in  the  night.  Far  below,  the  lanterns  of 
the  British  ships  glimmered  dimly  on  the  tide,  and  the 
long  drawn  cry  "  All's  well  "  of  the  sentries  among  the 
graves  on  Copp's  Hill  sounded  faintly  across  the  flow- 
ing river.  The  officers  urged  on  the  men,  of  whom 
several  hundred  would  work  an  hour,  and  then  go  on 
guard  duty  while  fresh  workers  took  their  places. 
Prescott  was  there,  and  Israel  Putnam,  "  Old  Put," 
whose  daring  had  been  tested  in  the  French  war,  and 
who  was  as  intolerant  in  council  as  he  was  undaunted  in 
battle.  During  the  night  came  also  General  Warren, 
whose  superior  rank  entitled  him  to  command  but  who 
declined  to  displace  Prescott.  Later  there  arrived  a 
company  of  New  Hampshire  men  under  command  of 
John  Stark,  whom  we  shall  hear  of  again  as  threatening 
to  make  Molly  Stark  a  widow  should  he  fail  to  beat 
the  British  at  Bennington. 

Through  the  night  the  toil  went  on  and  when  the 
light  grew  gray  in  the  east  a  sleepy  sentinel  on  His 
Majesty's  Ship  "  Lively  "  rubbed  his  eyes  and  gazed  in 
blank  amaze  at  a  long  line  of  earthworks,  on  which 
men  by  the  hundreds  were  still  working,  and  over  which 
flapped  a  defiant  flag.  What  flag  it  was  the  sentinel 
could  not  make  out.  For  that  matter  history  itself 
cannot  tell  us  to-day.  It  may  have  been  the  pine-tree 
flag  so  popular  in  Massachusetts,  or  some  other  bit  of 
emblematic  bunting.  At  any  rate  it  was  not  the  scarlet 
banner  of  King  George,  but  a  rebellious  rag.  So  after 
rolling  drums  and  piping  of  boatswains'  whistles  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         15 

"  Lively  "  let  fly  a  broadside  which  thundered  in  the 
clear  morning  air  and  woke  up  the  artillerists  on  Copp's 
Hill  who  continued  the  cannons'  chorus. 

But  artillery  bothered  the  Colonials  not  a  bit  and 
they  worked  away  perfecting  their  defences.  When  a 
round  shot  struck  unpleasantly  near  and  some  of  the 
diggers  showed  natural  alarm  Colonel  Prescott  leaped  to 
the  top  of  the  embankment  and  strode  up  and  down, 
encouraging  his  men  by  his  display  of  fearlessness.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  water,  General  Gage,  through  his 
field-glasses,  noted  the  tall  figure  with  flowing  coat  who 
so  calmly  exposed  himself. 

"Who  is  he?''  he  asked  Councillor  Willard,  who 
stood  at  his  side. 

After  a  look  through  the  glasses  Willard  replied: 
"  My  brother-in-law,  Colonel  Prescott." 

"Will  he  fight?" 

"  To  the  death,"  replied  Willard,  remembering 
Prescott's  remark  about  not  being  taken  in  arms. 

All  the  morning  the  cannon  roared  but  did  little  hurt 
to  the  Americans.  One  man  was  killed  by  a  grape-shot 
and  the  farmers,  still  new  to  the  necessary  brutality  of 
war  which  lets  the  dead  rest  where  they  fall  while  the 
fight  goes  on,  stopped  work  aghast. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  him?"  asked  a  subaltern 
of  Prescott. 

"  Bury  him,  of  course." 

"What!  without  prayers?" 

And  a  chaplain  threw  down  his  spade  and  insisted 
on  performing  the  sacred  office  over  the  first  victim  of 
Bunker  Hill,  while  the  men,  despite  Prescott's  com- 
mands, gathered  reverently  about  with  uncovered  heads. 

Prescott  knew,  as  all  with  any  experience  of  war 
there  knew,  that  the  thunderous  chorus  of  the  cannon 
was  but  the  overture  to  the  grand  and  tragic  drama 
that  was  to  be  enacted  on  that  gentle  hill-slope  that 


t%  STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

fair  June  day.  Though  the  sun  was  sultry  he  spared 
his  men  no  exertion.  But  while  no  time  was  wasted 
in  his  command,  it  was  sorely  squandered  in  the  main 
camp  at  Cambridge.  When  Prescott's  party  set  out 
it  was  understood  that  rations  were  to  follow  them. 
But  none  were  forwarded  and  between  heat,  hunger, 
and  fatigue  the  men  were  in  sorry  straits  before  noon. 
Worse  even  than  the  lack  of  food  was  the  failure  of 
General  Ward  to  send  forward  more  ammunition. 
Powder  was  the  scarcest  thing  in  the  American  lines 
that  day.  *In  all  the  towns  about  Cambridge  could  be. 
found  only  twenty-seven  half-barrels  and  Connecticut 
sent  thirty-six  half-barrels  more.  Even  this  slender 
supply  was  not  rushed  to  the  front,  and  we  read  in 
memoirs  of  the  time  of  officers  sitting  on  the  tongues 
of  ox-carts  and  measuring  out  half  a  gill  of  gunpowder 
each  to  soldiers  who  were  going  to  give  battle  to  the 
well-equipped  regulars  of  the  British  army. 

About  noon  the  bristling  crowds  that  had  been  seen 
during  the  morning  in  the  streets  of  Boston,  took  the 
form  of  marching  bodies  of  troops.  Evidently  Gage 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  attack  the  works  and  their 
defenders — their  work  done — stopped  to  watch  the 
marshalling  of  their  foe.  The  spectacle  from  the 
breastworks  was  a  thrilling  one.  Boston  still  had  its 
three  hills — two  have  since  been  levelled — which  gave 
the  town  its  early  name  of  Tremont  or  Trimountain — 
and  the  circling  rows  of  housetops,  rising  one  above  the 
other  to  the  crest  of  these  eminences,  were  crowded 
with  citizens  watching  the  beginning  of  the  fray. 
Scarce  a  cloud  flecked  the  sky,  and  the  sun  beat  down 
upon  the  blue  rippling  waters  of  the  Charles,  as  later 
it  beat  fiercely  on  the  red  coats  and  heavy  headgear 
of  the  British  troops  advancing  to  the  assault.  At 
this  moment,  however,  the  troops  were  on  the  water 
being  ferried  across  to  the   Charlestown  shore  in  a 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         17 

multitude  of  boats,  while  the  warships  in  the  stream 
covered  their  crossing  with  an  active  fire,  as  did  the 
battery  on  Copp's  Hill,  its  guns  roaring  over  the 
graves  of  patriots  dead  and  gone.  The  Americans 
made  no  effort  to  harass  the  troops  as  they  landed. 
Powder  was  too  precious  to  be  used  in  long-range 
fighting. 

There  had  been  dissension  in  the  ranks  of  the  British 
commanders  over  the  plan  of  battle.  Clinton  urged 
that  instead  of  assaulting  the  Americans  in  front,  the 
troops  should  be  ferried  to  the  Neck,  then  landed,  and 
attack  the  works  from  the  rear.  The  men-of-war 
could  have  protected  the  landing  easily,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans, outnumbered  and  deprived  of  their  protecting 
works,  would  have  been  annihilated  or  captured.  It 
was  easy  later  to  see  the  superiority  of  this  plan  of 
action,  but  at  the  time  it  was  overruled.  The  fact  is 
that  the  British,  stung  by  the  disgrace  of  Concord  and 
Lexington,  were  eager  for  a  straight-out  fight  and 
clamored  for  the  assault.  Prescott,  as  he  saw  the  plan 
developed,  was  confident  of  victory,  and  rejected 
vigorously  the  suggestion  that  his  men  be  relieved 
after  their  night's  work  by  fresh  troops.  "  The  men," 
he  said,  "  who  built  this  breastwork  can  best  defend 
it"  Putnam,  too,  knew  his  men,  knew  well  how  great 
was  the  advantage  of  a  shelter,  however  slight,  for 
their  bodies,  to  men  who  had  been  trained  in  the  war 
tactics  of  Indians.  "  The  Americans,"  he  once  said,  "  are 
not  afraid  of  their  heads  though  very  much  afraid  of 
their  legs;  if  you  cover  these  they  will  fight  forever." 

By  three  o'clock  the  British  were  all  ashore,  drawn 
up  ready  for  the  assault.  It  was  a  brilliant  body  of 
troops,  more  spectacular  than  business-like,  for  that 
was  the  time  in  the  development  of  war  when  nations 
thought  it  more  important  that  their  soldiers  should 
dazzle  the  eye,  than  that  they  be  stripped  for  swift 


18  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

and  effective  fighting.  These  Englishmen,  huddled  to- 
gether on  the  shore  under  the  protecting  fire  of  their 
warships,  made  a  striking  picture  in  scarlet,  gold,  white, 
and  the  rich  hues  of  furs.  But  the  scarlet  coats  were 
of  heavy  cloth  ill-fitted  for  exertions  under  a  blazing 
June  sun.  The  white  cross-belts  supported  heavy 
knapsacks  holding  three  days'  rations.  The  brass  but- 
tons and  epaulets  sparkled  in  the  sunlight  and  served 
to  direct  the  deadly  American  fire.  The  towering 
hats,  some  of  them  bearskin  shakos  weighing  eight  or 
ten  pounds,  were  more  foolish  on  a  battle  field  than 
the  Indians'  paint  and  feathers,  and  the  Chinaman's 
terrifying  masks.  The  men  under  all  these  trappings 
were  stout  of  heart  and  of  body,  but  when  we  are  told 
that  the  equipment  of  each  one  weighed  more  than 
twenty-five  pounds  we  recognize  that  they  took  the 
field  under  a  handicap. 

After  listening  to  a  speech  in  which  General  Howe 
assured  them  that  if  beaten  in  this  battle  they  would 
be  driven  out  of  Boston  altogether,  the  troops  gave 
three  cheers  and  began  the  advance,  at  quick-step, 
firing  as  they  marched,  at  the  American  earthworks 
that  lay  silent  and  sinister  in  their  front.  In  all  about 
three  thousand  troops  were  in  the  charge,  or  the  sup- 
porting lines.  General  Howe,  a  man  of  high  courage, 
who  would  have  scorned  to  send  his  men  whither  he 
would  not  himself  go,  commanded  the  right  wing, 
seeking  to  break  the  American  line  behind  a  rail-fence 
that  stretched  from  the  redoubt  down  to  the  Mystic 
River;  General  Pigot  led  the  left  wing  against  the 
redoubt  itself.  The  artillery  tried  to  aid  in  the  at- 
tack but  soon  ceased  firing  as  it  was  found  that  twelve- 
pound  balls  had  been  served  out  for  six-pound  cannon. 
Critics  of  the  time  said  that  the  trouble  was  due  to 
the  fact  that,  "  the  wretched  blunder  of  the  oversized 
balls  sprung  from  the  dotage  of  an  officer  of  rank  who 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         19 

spends  his  whole  time  in  dallying  with  the  school-master's 
daughter."  There,  it  seems,  must  have  been  a  true 
Daughter  of  the  American  Revolution.  However, 
on  the  Patriots'  side  the  artillery  was  equally  futile, 
though  not  Cupid  but  mere  inefficiency  and  lack  of 
courage  put  the  Yankee  guns  out  of  commission. 

Men  who  have  served  in  battle  say  that  the  critical 
time  that  tries  men's  nerves  is  the  brief  pause  before 
the  first  volley.  The  flash,  the  roar,  the  smoke,  the 
sight  of  companions  writhing  in  agony,  the  knowledge 
that  an  enemy  is  doing  his  best  to  hurt,  to  kill  you, 
rouses  the  mad  rage  that  leads  men  to  forget  danger 
and  self.  The  British  had  ample  time  for  this  calm 
contemplation  of  the  peril  they  were  about  to  confront. 
Their  march  lay  across  about  half  a  mile  of  fields 
knee-deep  in  thick  grass,  crossed  here  and  there  by 
fences  which  must  needs  be  torn  down.  The  sun  beat 
down  upon  them  and  the  heavy  load  they  carried 
fairly  dragged  them  down.  But  as  they  marched, 
firing  now  and  again  without  effect,  the  line  of  beetling 
breastworks  before  them  gave  no  answering  shot. 
They  could  see  the  muzzles  of  the  rifles  of  the  invisible 
defenders  resting  on  the  parapet  sullenly  watching, 
watching. 

What  they  could  not  see  or  hear  was  the  officers  in 
the  trenches  running  up  and  down  the  lines  command- 
ing the  men  to  hold  their  fire.  Every  American  school- 
boy knows  the  shrewd  but  simple  orders  of  that  day, 
"Pick  off  the  officers";  "  Aim  at  the  gold-laced 
coats";  "Fire  low;  aim  at  the  waist  bands";  "Save 
your  powder."  "  Lads,  you  are  all  marksmen,"  cried 
Prescott.  V  Don't  one  of  you  fire  till  you  see  the 
whites  of  their  eyes."  But  it  was  not  easy  to  hold  the 
eager  riflemen  in  check;  now  and  then  a  shot  rang  out. 
Down  at  the  rail-fence  Putnam  swore  he  would  cut 
down   any   men   who    fired   without   orders.     In   the 


20  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

redoubt  Prescott  sent  officers  to  knock  up  the  muzzles 
of  the  guns.  Those  officers  knew  how  scarce  the  pow- 
der was;  the  men  did  not. 

At  last  the  order  came.  The  red  line  was  within 
eight  rods  of  the  rail-fence  and  the  redoubt  when  the 
blast  rang  out.  Those  deadly  muzzles,  silent  so  long, 
had  been  kept  trained  on  the  British  and  every  bullet 
found  its  mark.  The  enemy  was  ranked  according 
to  the  tactics  of  those  times,  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
elbow  touching  elbow,  a  line  impossible  to  miss.  The 
first  rank  went  down  at  the  first  fire ;  the  second,  strug- 
gling over  the  bodies  of  their  companions,  pushed  on 
only  to  be  swept  away  as  the  American  muzzle-loaders 
spoke  again  and  again.  As  Private  Peter  Brown 
wrote  from  the  trenches  later  to  his  New  England 
mother,  "  When  the  enemy  came  up  to  swallow  they 
found  a  choaky  mouthful."  As  the  lines  halted  in 
confusion  the  Americans  began  to  pick  their  marks. 
"  There !  See  that  officer.  Let  me  have  a  shot  at 
him !  "  and  three  or  four  guns  would  ring  out  at  once. 
The  rail-fence,  where  stout  "  Old  Put  n  commanded, 
was  the  scene  of  the  fiercest  fighting,  the  British 
approaching  almost  near  enough  to  push  it  over,  but 
the  muskets  rested  in  deadly  calm  on  the  topmost  rail, 
smote  them  down.  A  British  officer  wrote,  "  Our 
light  infantry  was  served  up  in  companies  against  the 
grass  fence  without  being  able  to  penetrate; — indeed 
how  could  we  penetrate?  Most  of  our  grenadiers  and 
light  infantry  the  moment  of  presenting  themselves, 
lost  three-fourths  and  many  nine-tenths  of  their  men. 
Some  had  only  eight  and  nine  men  a  company  left; 
some  only  three,  four,  and  five." 

Human  nature  could  not  withstand  so  deadly  a  fire. 
Deaf  to  the  appeals  of  their  officers,  the  surviving 
British  turned  and  fled.  With  the  utmost  difficulty 
the  Americans  were  restrained  from  rushing  out  of  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         21 

trenches  in  pursuit,  and  on  every  side  the  cry  went  up, 
"  Are  Americans  cowards !  " 

But  Prescott,  Putnam,  and  the  gallant  Warren  knew 
the  dogged  British  courage  well.  Moreover,  they 
knew  how  grave  was  the  situation  of  the  defenders  on 
the  hill.  Mounting  his  horse,  Putnam  dashed  back  to 
Cambridge  to  demand  reinforcements  and  more  am- 
munition. The  situation  there  was  discouraging  and 
discreditable.  While  the  men  under  fire  in  the 
trenches  were  cool  and  efficient,  the  men  at  the  base 
in  the  rear  were  excited  and  plunged  in  confusion. 
There  was  much  galloping  to  and  fro  with  futile 
messages,  and  some  bodies  of  troops  started  for  the 
front,  but  few  got  to  the  scene  of  battle.  No  powder 
was  sent  at  all.  Had  there  been  intelligence  and  sys- 
tem in  the  rear,  as  there  were  devotion  and  gallantry 
at  the  front,  the  story  of  Bunker  Hill  would  have  been 
different. 

Again  the  British  advanced  to  the  assault;  mainly 
fresh  troops  this  time,  though  still  led  by  the  gallant 
Howe  and  Pigot.  Howe  had  gone  through  the 
leaden  storm  unhurt,  but  the  blood  of  others  that  lay 
thick  upon  the  grass  had  stained  his  white  silk  stock- 
ings crimson.  The  story  of  the  second  charge  differs 
little  from  that  of  the  first.  The  scene  was  made  the 
more  terrifying  by  the  fact  that  "carcasses  "  or  large 
shells  filled  with  inflammables  fired  from  Copp's  Hill 
had  set  Charlestown  ablaze  and  meeting-houses  and 
homes  were  all  in  flames.  General  Burgoyne  writing 
to  Lord  Stanley  afterward  said : 

"  And  now  ensued  one  of  the  greatest  scenes  of 
war  that  can  be  conceived;  if  we  look  to  the  height, 
Howe's  corps  ascending  the  hill  in  the  face  of  in- 
trenchments,  and  in  a  very  disadvantageous  ground, 
was  much  engaged;  to  the  left,  the  enemy  pouring  in 
fresh  troops  by  thousands  over  the  land   (here  Gen- 


22  STORY    OF   OUR   ARMY 

eral  Burgoyne's  view  is  imaginative  rather  than  real)  ; 
and  in  the  arm  of  the  sea  our  ships  and  floating  bat- 
teries cannonading  them;  straight  before  us  a  large 
and  noble  town  in  one  great  blaze — the  church  steeples 
being  timber  were  great  pyramids  of  fire  above  the 
rest;  behind  us  the  church  steeples,  and  our  own  camp 
covered  with  spectators  of  the  rest  of  our  army  which 
was  engaged;  the  hills  around  the  country  covered  with 
spectators;  the  enemy  all  in  anxious  suspense;  the  roar 
of  cannon,  mortars  and  musketry;  the  crash  of 
churches,  ships  upon  the  stocks  and  whole  streets  fall- 
ing together;  the  storm  of  the  redoubt  with  the  objects 
above  described  to  fill  the  eye;  and  the  reflection  that 
perhaps  a  defeat  was  the  final  loss  to  the  British  Em- 
pire in  America  to  fill  the  mind;  made  the  whole  a 
picture  and  a  complication  of  horror  and  importance 
beyond  anything  that  ever  came  to  my  lot  to  be  wit- 
ness to." 

So  for  the  second  time  the  British  line  faltered  and 
gave  way  before  that  deadly  fire.  The  toll  of  death 
lay  heavy  on  its  bravest  and  best.  Three  times  Howe 
found  himself  standing  alone  on  the  field,  his  aides 
and  officers  about  him  having  gone  down  in  one  red 
burial  blent.  One  company  of  the  Fifty-Second  Regi- 
ment had  every  man  killed  or  wounded.  Where  the 
dead  lay  like  windrows  on  the  grassy  field  the  gleam 
of  gold  lace  in  the  sunlight  told  how  cruelly  the  Ameri- 
can fire  had  marked  down  the  officers  for  its  own. 
After  the  battle  some  British  critics  complained  of  the 
action  of  the  men;  but  the  roster  of  the  dead  stilled 
any  question  as  to  the  gallantry  of  the  officers. 

Baffled,  but  not  beaten,  the  British  gathered  again 
at  the  water-side,  within  range  indeed  of  the  Colonial 
rifles,  but  safe  since  the  scarcity  of  powder  checked  the 
fire  of  the  men  in  the  trenches.  This  time  neither 
officers  nor  men  were  eager  to  renew  the  assault.     "  It 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         23 

is  sheer  butchery,"  murmured  some  as  Howe  pressed 
on  the  work  of  reforming  the  lines.  The  troops  had 
lost  their  confident  air.  They  had  learned  that  if  in- 
deed they  were  confronted  by  peasants  the  American 
peasantry  could  stand  firm  and  shoot  straight.  The 
officers  had  to  prick  the  men  sharply  with  sword-points 
and  bayonets,  and  strike  them  with  scabbards  to  force 
them  into  line.  But  reinforcements  came  from  the 
other  shore.  General  Clinton,  who  had  watched  the 
progress  of  the  disaster,  came  to  serve  as  a  volunteer. 
The  new  attack  was  ordered  more  wisely.  Heavy 
hats  and  knapsacks  were  discarded.  The  attack  was 
centred  on  the  redoubt  with  only  a  side  demonstration 
at  the  rail-fence.  The  artillery  was  so  posted  as  to 
command  the  interior  of  the  redoubt.  The  attack  was 
made  in  column  instead  of  the  long  line  offering  a  fair 
target  to  the  defenders. 

From  the  redoubt  Prescott  watched  these  new  dis- 
positions with  grave  dread.  The  silence  of  the  British 
guns  foreshadowed  a  desperate  charge.  The  new  po- 
sition of  the  enemy's  cannon  enabled  them  to  rake 
the  redoubt  with  murderous  volleys.  From  Cam- 
bridge came  no  reinforcements  and  above  all  no  pow- 
der. Of  that  prime  necessity  of  warfare  there  was 
not  enough  in  the  American  works  for  more  than  two 
volleys.  He  ordered  the  men  to  hold  their  fire  until 
the  enemy  was  within  sixty  feet.  Stones  were  gathered 
for  use  in  hand-to-hand  fighting  and,  as  there  were  not 
more  than  fifty  bayonets  in  the  whole  force,  the  men 
were  told  to  club  their  muskets  when  the  enemy 
mounted  the  parapet — for  that  it  would  come  to  that 
pass  there  could  be  no  doubt. 

The  British  came  on  gallantly  and  in  perfect  silence, 
for  their  orders  had  been  to  rush  the  works  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet.  At  twenty  yards  they  were  met 
by  a  volley,  but  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  pressed  on. 


24  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

The  American  fire  slackened — the  powder  was  nearly 
gone.  Howe  turned  one  end  of  the  redoubt;  Pigot 
the  other,  while  red-coated  soldiers  swarmed  over  it 
in  front.  An  officer  of  marines  waved  his  sword  from 
the  crest  crying,  "  Come  on  men !  The  day  is  ours !  " 
and  fell  dead.  It  was  Major  Pitcairn  who  so  dough- 
tily had  ordered  the  "  rebels  "  on  Lexington  Green  to 
throw  down  their  arms  and  disperse.  Within  the  re- 
doubt defender  and  assailant  were  so  thickly  mingled 
in  the  smoke  that  firearms  could  be  but  little  used — 
the  fighting  was  with  bayonets  and  clubbed  muskets. 

The  Americans  retreating  crossed  the  crest  of 
Bunker  Hill.  Here  the  gallant  Putnam  had  some 
half-completed  works  and  here  he  strove  to  rally  the 
fugitives.  "  Make  a  stand  here !  M  he  cried.  "  We 
can  stop  them  yet.  In  God's  name  stop  and  give  one 
shot  more ! "  But  still  no  powder,  and  the  helpless 
and  dispirited  troops  streamed  away  across  Charles- 
town  Neck  and  so  on  to  Cambridge  where  was  the 
ammunition  that  might  have  saved  the  day.  In  the 
last  stand  was  slain  Joseph  Warren,  best  beloved  of 
the  patriots  whose  activity  and  eloquence  had  brought 
on  the  Revolution — doomed  to  die  in  its  first  pitched 
battle. 

There  was  no  pursuit  by  the  British,  who  contented 
themselves  with  fortifying  the  hill  and  resting  on 
their  arms.  Prescott,  a  very  glutton  for  the  fight,  stormed 
about  Cambridge,  denouncing  those  who  had  failed  to 
support  him.  "Give  me  1,500  men  and  ammuni- 
tion and  I  will  retake  the  position/1  he  cried.  But 
the  moment  was  passed.  The  day  was  lost  and  won. 
For  the  British  it  was  a  Pyrrhic  victory — another 
such  and  they  would  be  undone.  According  to 
official  reports  they  had  lost  1,054  men — American 
historians  claim  more,  but  even  that  is  over  thirty  per 
cent.    That  was  a  higher  loss  than  on  the  historic  fields 


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53 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         25 

of  Fontenoy,  Waterloo  and  Gettysburg.  But  the 
battle  of  Waterloo  lasted  all  day;  Gettysburg,  three 
days ;  that  of  Bunker  Hill,  an  hour  and  a  half.  The 
American  loss  was  411  killed  and  wounded,  or  about 
twenty  per  cent,  of  the  force  engaged. 

In  its  results  Bunker  Hill  was  one  of  the  great  bat- 
tles of  history.  Was  it  an  American  defeat?  True 
England  won  the  hill,  but  she  lost  13  colonies. 
Never  was  there  a  finer  illustration  of  the  adage, 
"  Truth  loses  battles  but  wins  wars."  In  the  parade 
ground  of  the  citadel  at  Quebec,  England's  Gibraltar 
of  this  continent,  stands  a  little  old  brass  cannon. 
u  This  was  captured  at  Bunker  Hill,"  says  the  scarlet- 
coated  soldier  who  shows  tourists  about,  smiling  with 
a  touch  of  malice  if  there  be,  as  there  usually  are,  citi- 
zens of  the  United  States  among  them. 

"  All  right,"  answered  a  Yankee  once,  robbing  the 
sneer  of  its  sting  forever.  "  You  keep  the  gun;  weVe 
got  the  hill." 


CHAPTER  II 

Creation  of  the  Army— Siege  of  Boston— Taking  of  Ticonderoga— 
Expedition  Against  Quebec— The  British  Evacuate  Boston. 

The  result  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  left  the 
British  in  possession  of  Boston  and  Charlestown.  The 
Americans  had  all  the  surrounding  country.  Both  of 
the  invested  towns  were  on  large  promontories  con- 
nected with  the  mainland  by  a  narrow  isthmus,  or  neck, 
as  a  flower  is  held  to  the  parent  plant  by  a  slender  stem. 
By  binding  tightly  this  stem  one  can  cause  the  flower  to 
wilt  for  lack  of  sustenance.  By  blocking  the  two  necks 
with  fortifications  the  Americans  could  starve  the 
British  into  subjection,  and  this  they  straightway  pro- 
ceeded to  do. 

Meantime  the  news  of  the  events  in  Massachusetts 
had  stirred  the  whole  band  of  colonies  from  Maine  to 
South  Carolina.  Swift  carriers  galloped  out  of  Cam- 
bridge before  the  wounds  of  those  who  fell  at  Lexing- 
ton were  stanched,  bearing  bulletins  of  the  affair. 
Ridiculously  incorrect  some  of  these  proclamations 
were,  but  they  had  their  effect.  War-fire  blazed 
throughout  the  land.  Men  dropped  plow  and  axe, 
and  flew  to  arms.  The  Committee  of  Safety  called 
for  men  to  defend  wives  and  children  "  from  the 
butchering  hands  of  an  inhuman  soldiery."  The 
troops  thus  collected,  provincial  militia,  minute  men, 
free  companies,  and  individual  volunteers  gathered  in 
and  about  Cambridge.  New  England  and  New  York 
furnished  most,  though  some  began  coming  in  early 
from  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia.  But  it  was  a  rabble, 
not  an  army.     There  were  men  there  trained  to  com- 

26 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         27 

mand  in  the  wars  with  the  French  and  the  Indians,  but 
they  were  not  always  in  command.  The  country  mili- 
tia companies  conducted  their  military  affairs  on  the 
town-meeting  principle,  and  it  was  not  always  the  best 
soldier  who  was  elected  captain.  When  the  authority 
of  general  officers  was  involved  there  was  apt  to  be  a 
clash  because  of  the  antagonistic  ambitions  and  jealous- 
ies of  the  colonies  represented.  Rhode  Island  did  not 
see  why  her  militia  should  serve  under  a  Massachu- 
setts general,  and  such  a  situation  bred  confusion  and 
almost  open  mutiny.  It  was  natural  that  with  the 
scene  of  action  in  and  about  Boston  and  with  that 
colony  furnishing  the  greater  number  of  the  troops,  it 
should  expect  the  chief  command.  Accordingly  Gen- 
eral Artemas  Ward  was  appointed  commander-in-chief 
by  Massachusetts  May  20,  and  was  in  command  at 
Cambridge  on  Bunker  Hill  day.  Probably  the  failure 
to  swiftly  support  the  troops  at  the  front  was  then  due 
to  the  slenderness  of  his  authority.  But  even  before 
he  took  command  it  had  been  determined  to  ask  the 
Continental  Congress  to  designate  a  commander-in- 
chief.  A  messenger  was  sent  to  Philadelphia  to  com- 
municate this  fact  to  the  Congress  which  was  then  sit- 
ting there. 

With  that  Congress  begins  properly  the  Story  of 
Our  Army.  There  had  been  fighting  men  in  the 
colonies  ever  since  the  times  of  Myles  Standish  and 
Captain  John  Smith.  There  had  been  battles,  well 
fought,  like  those  of  Fort  Duquesne,  Louisbourg  and 
Bunker  Hill.  But  the  fighting  men  had  enrolled  and 
the  battles  been  fought  under  the  scarlet  flag  of  St. 
George  or  the  diverse  flags  of  the  colonies.  Now  they 
were  to  serve  under  national  authority  and  a  national 
flag — though  the  design  for  the  latter  was  not  at  once 
approved. 

June  14,   1775,  tne  Continental  Congress  took  up 


28  STORYOFOURARMY 

the  burden  of  the  war.  It  took  over  the  troops  of 
Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  New  Hampshire,  and 
Rhode  Island.  It  provided  for  the  raising  of  an  army; 
it  drew  up  the  first  edition  of  the  Articles  of  War, 
appointed  four  major-generals  and  eight  brigadier- 
generals  and  chose  George  Washington,  of  Virginia, 
commander-in-chief. 

What  we  would  call  to-day  "  politics  "  had  quite  as 
much  to  do  with  the  selection  of  Washington  as  had 
strictly  military  considerations.  He  had,  it  is  true, 
some  repute  as  a  soldier,  resting  mainly  on  the  skill 
with  which  he  had  extricated  the  shattered  remnant  of 
Braddock's  army  from  the  trap  set  for  them  by  the 
French  and  Indians  at  Fort  Duquesne.  But  he  was 
easily  the  foremost  citizen  of  Virginia  and  as  such  a 
man  of  large  influence  throughout  the  Southern  colo- 
nies. New  England  had  taken  the  lead  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  agitation  against  Great  Britain  and  armed 
resistance  to  her  authority.  Accordingly,  it  appeared 
to  John  Adams,  of  Boston,  a  member  of  the  Con- 
tinental Congress,  destined  later  to  be  President  of 
the  then  unthought-of  United  States,  that  to  select  the 
eminent  Virginian  would  allay  possible  jealousy  among 
the  Southern  colonies  and  weld  them  into  a  harmoni- 
ous whole.  Washington  had  not  sought  the  com- 
mand, and  accepted  it  not  without  misgivings.  "  I  am 
prepared,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  to  bid  farewell  to 
what  little  reputation  I  may  now  possess."  His  words 
were  prophetic,  so  far  as  momentary  repute  was  con- 
cerned, for  the  Revolutionary  days  did  not  differ  from 
our  own  as  far  as  the  price  exacted  from  public  men 
for  their  promotion  was  concerned.  Later  genera- 
tions have  raised  Washington  to  the  position  of  a 
demi-god,  but  in  his  own  day  he  had  to  bear  the  shafts 
of  slander  and  the  ribaldries  of  ridicule  even  as  do  the 
great  soldiers  and  statesmen  of  later  days. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         29 

With  Washington  were  commissioned  other  general 
officers  whose  names  will  often  recur  in  this  story. 
Senior  among  the  major-generals  was  Artemas  Ward, 
who  at  the  moment  was  in  command  of  the  troops 
around  Boston.  He  served  until  the  British  evacu- 
ated that  city  and  then  resigned.  Major-General 
Philip  Schuyler  was  a  New  Yorker,  a  soldier  tried  by 
service  in  the  Indian  wars.  Of  Charles  Lee,  more 
was  expected  than  of  any  of  the  new  major-generals, 
for  his  manner  and  conversation  were  brilliant  and 
plausible.  He  turned  out  to  be  an  adventurer  and 
probably  a  traitor.  His  chief  place  in  history  rests 
on  the  fact  that  he  acted  in  so  unsoldierly  a  man- 
ner at  Monmouth  as  to  make  Washington  swear 
in  a  fashion  intensely  human.  Israel  Putnam, 
the  fourth  major-general,  had  a  wide  reputation 
for  courage  which  he  well  upheld  during  the  war, 
though  a  certain  blunt  insistence  upon  his  own  claims 
to  rank  and  preeminence  kept  him  in  continual 
quarrels. 

Of  the  eight  brigadiers  the  notable  ones,  of  whom 
we  shall  read  much,  were  Richard  Montgomery,  of 
New  York  and  Nathanael  Greene,  of  Rhode  Island. 
Horatio  Gates  was  appointed  adjutant-general.  He 
was  a  Virginian  whose  service  as  an  officer  in  the 
British  army  under  Braddock  should  have  made  him 
a  notable  figure  in  the  American  service.  But  he  be- 
came a  political  soldier,  always  intriguing  against  his 
superiors,  and  even  trying  to  displace  Washington. 
In  the  end  he  dropped  into  obscurity. 

Washington  was  commissioned,  and  started  for 
Cambridge  on  horseback  to  take  command  of  the  army. 
The  news  of  Bunker  Hill  had  not  yet  reached  Phila- 
delphia, but  scarcely  twenty  miles  out  Washington  met 
the  courier  who  was  bringing  it. 

"  Did  the  militia  fight?"  he  asked  before  the  mes- 


3o  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

scnger  could  say  more  than  that  there  had  been  a 
battle. 

Being  told  how  they  had  fought,  he  said  gravely, 
"Then  the  liberties  of  the  country  are  safe,"  and 
rode  on. 

Looking  back  with  full  knowledge  of  all  that  was 
done  in  those  seven  years  of  revolution  it  seems  hard 
to  .believe  with  what  incredulity  men  of  high  standing 
in  the  colonies  regarded  the  prospect  of  the  people 
conducting  themselves  like  brave  men  and  soldiers. 
They  should  have  known  better  for  constant  struggle 
with  the  wilderness  and  the  hostile  forces  of  nature 
had  strengthened  the  will  of  these  Colonists,  while  re- 
peated Indian  wars  had  inured  them  to  the  perils  of 
battle.  Most  of  them  were  or  had  been  pioneers  and 
to  be  one  of  the  advance  guard  of  civilization  pre- 
supposes personal  courage.  The  British  found  out 
soon  enough  that  they  had  underestimated  the  personal 
bravery  of  the  Americans  and  were  frank  enough  in 
their  admissions  of  it.  Before  the  series  of  events  that 
began  with  Lexington,  General  Gage  was  sufficiently 
contemptuous  of  American  valor,  but  after  Bunker 
Hill  wrote  to  Lord  Dartmouth,  "The  trials  we  have 
had  show  the  rebels  are  not  the  despicable  rabble  too 
many  have  supposed  them  to  be;  and  I  find  it  owing 
to  a  military  spirit,  encouraged  among  them  for  a  few 
years  past,  joined  with  an  uncommon  degree  of  zeal 
and  enthusiasm,  that  they  are  otherwise." 

Among  American  leaders  the  same  distrust  of  the 
bearing  of  the  Colonials  had  been  felt,  as  their  exulta- 
tion, when  Concord  and  Bunker  Hill  proved  that 
farmers  would  fight,  showed.  "  I  am  glad  of  it,"  cried 
Patrick  Henry,  when  he  was  told  of  the  battle;  "a 
breach  of  our  affections  was  needed  to  rouse  the  coun- 
try to  action. "  And  the  shrewd  old  philosopher,  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  forcasting  the  future  from  the  event 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         31 

said,  "Americans  will  fight!  England  has  lost  her 
colonies  for  ever." 

Arrived  at  Cambridge,  Washington  assumed  com- 
mand of  his  army  under  that  spreading  elm  on  Cam- 
bridge Green  that  for  more  than  a  century  has 
been  shown  to  travelers  as  the  "  Washington  Elm." 
Present,  or  on  service  in  the  works  overlooking  Boston 
were  17,215  officers  and  men  out  of  an  army,  "  on 
paper  "  of  20,242.  Of  the  35  regiments,  26  were  from 
Massachusetts  alone.  The  force  was  almost  exactly 
equal  to  that  of  the  British,  but  the  latter  were 
drilled,  disciplined,  armed  with  standard  weapons, 
commanded  by  officers  schooled  in  European  cam- 
paigns, trained  in  the  subordination  so  necessary  to  the 
soldier,  and  well  provided  with  artillery. 

Washington's  men  had  their  high  qualities.  Their 
patriotism  was  unbounded.  They  were  willing  to 
fight,  to  suffer,  to  die,  if  need  be  for  their  country. 
But  they  were  minded  to  do  it  their  own  way.  Of 
discipline  they  knew  nothing,  and  wanted  to  know  no 
more.  They  saw  no  reason  for  eternal  drilling,  for 
daily  shaving  and  keeping  arms  and  accoutrements 
bright.  Why,  when  the  enemy  seemed  content  in  Bos- 
ton and  a  mere  handful  in  the  trenches  could  keep  him 
from  breaking  out,  those  whose  farms  needed  care 
could  not  go  home  subject  to  call,  was  hard  for  them 
to  comprehend.  All  the  same  they  were  sound  stuff 
to  the  backbone,  and  could  march,  and  dig  with  the 
best  of  regulars,  knew  how  to  care  for  themselves,  and 
with  their  long  rifles — seven  feet  long  as  a  rule — were 
deadly  shots.  Their  courage  was  shown  on  a  hundred 
fields.  In  a  most  readable  book,*  which  is  at  the  same 
time  a  real  contribution  to  history,  a  New  England 
writer  describes  two  American  privates: 

*  "  The  Private  Soldier  Under  Washington,"  by  Charles  Knowles 
Bolton ;  New  York,  1902. 


32  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

"  Can  you  not  see  two  of  them  now — Haines  at 
Bemis  Heights,  astride  the  muzzle  of  a  British  brass 
twelve-pounder,  ramming  his  bayonet  into  the  thigh 
of  a  savage  foe,  recovering  himself  to  parry  the  thrust 
of  a  second,  and  quick  as  a  tiger,  dashing  the  same 
bloody  bayonet  through  his  head;  recovering  again 
only  to  fall  from  the  cannon,  shot  through  the  mouth 
and  tongue;  lying  two  nights  on  the  battle  field  until 
thirst,  hunger,  and  loss  of  blood  overcome  him,  then 
in  the  ranks  of  the  dead  made  ready  for  burial;  and 
from  all  this  recovering  for  three  years  more  of  service 
and  a  green  old  age;  or  again  that  unknown  daredevil 
whose  swaying  figure  stood  out  upon  the  parapet  of 
the  intrenchments  about  Yorktown,  brandishing  his 
spade  at  every  ball  that  burred  about  him,  finally  going 
to  his  death  *  damning  his  soul  if  he  would  dodge/  " 

Out  of  such  raw  material  Washington  had  to  forge 
an  army.  Moreover,  he  had  to  replace  it  with  a  new 
army  before  it  was  half  finished,  for  the  terms  of  en- 
listment of  the  militia  began  to  expire  about  the  time 
he  assumed  command.  He  had  to  tighten  the  works 
about  Boston,  and  be  on  the  qui  vive  all  the  time  for 
a  sortie.  He  was  short  of  cannon,  of  powder,  and  of 
men.  Of  the  first  two  the  enemy  furnished  the  first 
supply. 

Ticonderoga,  at  the  junction  of  Lake  George  and 
Lake  Champlain  in  the  colony  of  New  York,  was  a 
fort  on  which  the  British  government  had  spent  some 
considerable  money,  and  which  was  well  armed  and 
garrisoned.  It  held  a  vital  point  on  the  long  water- 
way which,  with  but  one  portage,  extended  from  the 
ocean  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  to  the  river  St. 
Lawrence.  Its  walls  of  heavy  masonry,  erected  there 
in  a  wilderness  trodden  only  by  the  feet  of  trappers 
and  occasional  traders  with  the  Indians,  were  fitted  to 
withstand  the  fire  of  the  ordinary  artillery  of  that  day, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         33 

and  their  ruined  fragments  still  stand  on  the  high  bluff 
looking  down  upon  the  placid  lake,  which  after  wit- 
nessing the  wars  of  the  red  men,  the  French,  the  British, 
and  the  Americans,  has  settled  down  as  the  placid  path- 
way of  peace  and  pleasure.  The  fort  was  well  filled 
with  cannon  of  different  weights  and  calibres,  precisely 
the  weapons  which  the  American  forces  most  lacked. 
Indeed  in  all  Massachusetts  were  but  twenty-three  small 
pieces  of  artillery,  and  of  these  five  were  lost  at  Bunker 
Hill. 

In  April,  1775,  before  that  battle,  Captain  Benedict 
Arnold  had  arrived  at  Cambridge  with  a  company  of 
volunteers  from  New  Haven,  Connecticut.  He  knew  that 
Fort  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point,  its  neighbor,  were 
but  feebly  garrisoned  and  that  they  contained  a  con- 
siderable store  of  cannon.  On  his  suggestion  to,  Wash- 
ington he  was  authorized  to  raise  a  force  for  the  cap- 
ture of  the  forts,  and  was  commissioned  colonel — the 
beginning  of  a  military  career  that  was  wholly  bril- 
liant until  it  was  suddenly  snuffed  out  in  a  calamity  of 
ignominy  and  disgrace. 

Arnold  raised  four  hundred  troops  for  his  ex- 
pedition and  set  out  across  the  country,  going  himself 
ahead  of  the  main  body  of  his  troops  with  a  com- 
paratively small  party.  Curiously  enough  the  same 
purpose  that  animated  him  had  occurred  earlier  in 
the  mind  of  Captain  Ethan  Allen,  of  Vermont, 
whom  Arnold  found  already  on  the  eastern  shore 
of  Lake  Champlain  with  a  party  of  two  hundred 
"  Green  Mountain  Boys,"  bound  on  the  same 
errand.  The  two  joined  forces,  Arnold  finally  accept- 
ing second  place  as  a  volunteer,  though  he  insisted 
strenuously  on  being  put  in  command.  Ferrying  their 
troops  across  the  narrow  lake,  they  held  in  restraint 
all  country  folk  who  might  by  any  possibility  carry  a 
warning  to  the  garrison.     Through  the  dark  night  of 


34  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

May  8  they  lurked  in  the  forests  that  surrounded  Fort 
Ticonderoga  and  just  at  dawn  rushed  to  the  attack, 
sounding  the  Indian  warwhoop.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  that  savage  ululation  had  rung  among  those  hills, 
for  the  fort  stood  there  as  a  British  outpost  against  the 
Indians,  to  hold  a  spot  won  from  the  French  and  their 
savage  allies  at  heavy  cost  of  blood  and  treasure, 
Now  the  commander  of  the  fort  supposed  all  was 
peaceful  about  him.  If  any  rumors  of  the  disturbances 
about  Boston  had  reached  his  ears  he  supposed  them 
to  be  merely  local  troubles.  So  on  this  May  night  the 
garrison  slept,  the  great  gate  was  closed  indeed,  but 
the  wicket  was  open  and  through  this  the  assailants 
rushed,  the  sleepy  sentinel  vanishing  as  he  heard  their 
advancing  shouts.  But  few  shots  were  fired.  The 
few  defenders  on  duty  threw  down  their  arms  while 
most  were  taken  in  their  cots.  Rushing  to  the  com- 
mandant's quarters,  Ethan  Allen  beat  thunderously  on 
the  door  with  his  sword  hilt.  Captain  Delaplace  came 
to  the  door  clad  in  the  unmilitary  trappings  of  sleep. 

"What  does  this  mean?  What  do  you  want?" 
he  demanded. 

"  Surrender,"  cried  Allen,  "  we  are  in  possession  of 
the  fort." 

"By  what  authority?" 

"  In  the  name  of  the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Con- 
tinental Congress." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  surrender,  and  Dela- 
place yielded.  He  knew  nothing  of  any  war.  "  He 
wandered  about  as  one  dazed,"  wrote  a  soldier  of 
Allen's  command,  "  repeating,  *  What  does  this  mean?  ' 
over  and  over  again." 

With  the  fort  the  Americans  captured  the  captain, 
a  lieutenant,  forty-eight  privates  and  a  number  of 
women  and  children,  all  of  whom  were  sent  to  Albany. 
What  was  more  important  was  the  capture  of  nearly 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         35 

two  hundred  cannon.  Of  these  the  lighter  pieces  were 
sent  at  once  to  Washington  at  Cambridge,  while  the 
heavier  ones  were  held  until  the  cold  and  snow  of 
winter  would  make  the  roads  passable,  when  they  too 
were  sent  thither  to  aid  in  driving  Gage  out  of  Boston. 
The  fort  had  cost  England  in  the  various  expeditions 
for  its  establishment  something  like  eight  million 
pounds  sterling.  It  was  taken  by  the  Americans  in 
ten  minutes  without  the  loss  of  a  man.  Within  a  day 
or  two  the  neighboring  British  works  at  Crown  Point 
and  the  harbor  of  Skenesboro  were  taken  by  Allen's 
forces  and  the  waterway  to  Canada  was  in  possession 
of  the  Americans. 

The  authenticity  of  the  swashbuckling  phrase  in 
which  Allen  demanded  the  surrender  has  been  ques- 
tioned on  the  reasonable  grounds  that  the  Continental 
Congress  had  never  met,  and  did  not  meet  until  six 
hours  after  the  assault,  and  that  the  dashing  Green 
Mountain  soldier  notoriously  did  not  believe  in 
Jehovah.  But  the  story  rests  on  Allen's  own  narrative 
and  the  phrase  is  too  deeply  graven  on  American  his- 
tory ever  to  be  obliterated. 

While  drawing  the  lines  tighter  about  the  beleaguered 
British  in  Boston,  Washington  as  commander-in-chief 
had  forced  upon  his  attention  the  need  of  activity  in 
other  directions  if  from  a  local  revolt  the  American 
uprising  was  to  be  developed  into  a  true  war  of  inde- 
pendence— for  after  Bunker  Hill  men  began  to  speak 
of  a  separation  from  the  mother  country  as  they  never 
had  talked  before.  A  little  study  of  the  map  of  the 
colonies,  or  a  present  day  map  of  the  United  States  will 
show  the  geographical  facts  which  determined  the 
whole  plan  of  the  British  attack  upon  the  colonies. 
England  controlled  the  ocean,  the  bays,  the  harbors, 
and  the  navigable  rivers  absolutely.  Even  then  her 
navy  was  supreme  upon  the  Seven  Seas.    The  Colonists 


36  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

controlled  a  strip  of  land  bordering  the  ocean  and 
reaching  on  >an  average  fifty  miles  into  the  interior. 
Boston  was  in  the  hands  of  a  British  garrison.  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  and  Charleston  were  still  held  by 
the  Americans  though  the  cities  were  full  of  Tories, 
as  the  sympathizers  with  King  George  were  called,  and 
it  needed  only  for  a  few  British  men-of-war  to  drop 
anchor  in  the  harbor  to  make  of  any  one  of  these  towns 
a  British  stronghold.  Indeed,  very  shortly  after 
Washington  cooped  him  up  in  Boston,  Gage  wrote  to 
London  urging  that  he  be  allowed  to  abandon  that 
city  and  take  his  troops  by  water  to  New  York.  In 
those  days  water  transportation  was  everything.  Rail- 
roads there  were  none,  and  the  ordinary  highways  were 
quagmires  in  wet  weather.  But  nature  had  provided 
several  broad  waterways  from  that  sea,  which  was 
ever  Britain's  broad  domain,  to  the  heart  of  the  Colo- 
nists' country. 

One  was  the  path  by  water  up  the  St.  Lawrence  past 
the  towering  heights  on  which  stand  the  town  and 
citadel  of  Quebec,  to  the  point  at  which  the  St.  John's 
enters  that  river.  The  St.  John's  in  turn  offered  a  way 
to  a  point  within  a  short  portage  of  the  head  of  Lake 
Champlain,  which  with  the  connecting  Lake  George, 
extends  south  to  the  headwaters  of  the  Hudson.  This 
water  route  from  sea  to  sea  was  the  objective  of  almost 
a  continuous  campaign  by  the  British  throughout  the 
war,  but  at  no  time  did  they  control  it.  They  came 
nearest  to  its  possession  at  the  critical  time  when  dis- 
covery foiled  Arnold's  treacherous  purpose  of  selling 
to  the  enemy  the  fort  at  West  Point,  which  held  the 
water  gap  in  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson  against  all 
comers. 

To  control  this  northeastern  waterway,  Washington 
determined  to  invade  Canada.  Word  reached  him 
that  General  Carleton,  the  British  commander,  in  that 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS        37 

province  had  but  a  few  hundred  men  under  arms,  and 
that  in  Quebec  was  not  a  single  regular  soldier.  Both 
Ethan  Allen  and  Benedict  Arnold  were  clamoring  for 
permission  to  command  an  invading  expedition.  Allen 
wanted  to  follow  the  line  of  the  St.  John's  River  and 
fall  upon  Montreal.  Arnold,  who  had  left  the  Ticon- 
deroga  region  in  a  passion  because  of  a  fancied  slight, 
wished  to  march  from  the  upper  waters  of  the  Kenne- 
bec and  attack  Quebec.  Washington  hesitated  for 
some  time.  Canada  was  a  distinct  province.  Her 
people  largely  French  had  shown  no  sympathy  with 
the  New  England  revolt.  Invasion  of  their  territory 
might  positively  estrange  them — make  them  a  hostile 
instead  of  a  neutral  force.  As  it  turned  out  it  did  have 
precisely  this  effect.  Probably  the  two  soldiers  so  eager 
to  lead  the  expedition  were  not  all  to  Washington's 
liking,  for  with  all  their  gallantry  they  were  insubordi- 
nate and  animated  by  selfish  ambitions. 

In  the  end  Washington  agreed  to  both  expeditions, 
but  denied  to  Allen  command  of  the  expedition  against 
Montreal.  That  was  conferred  upon  General  Philip 
Schuyler,  but  upon  his  falling  ill  the  actual  command 
devolved  on  General  Richard  Montgomery,  an  Irish- 
man who  had  served  with  Wolfe  against  Quebec. 
Allen  characteristically  enough  made  a  bold  dash,  with- 
out orders  and  with  an  insufficient  force  against  Mon- 
treal, but  failed.  After  losing  about  forty  men  he  was 
captured  with  the  rest  of  his  command  and  sent  to 
England  a  prisoner.  After  two  years  of  captivity, 
he  was  released  and,  returning  to  military  service,  be- 
came a  brigadier-general  in  the  Continental  Army.  As 
notable  for  bluster  as  for  bravery,  tenacious  of  fancied 
rights  and  intolerant  of  rivals,  he  achieved  by  his  pic- 
turesque qualities  a  popularity  which  his  record  as  a 
soldier  did  not  justify,  and  through  an  indiscreet  cor- 


38  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

respondence  with  the  enemy  came  near  being  branded 
forever  as  a  traitor — a  fate  which  his  true  patriotism 
did  not  deserve. 

General  Montgomery  meanwhile  found  that  Mon- 
treal and  Canada  were  not  to  be  taken  by  mere  dash. 
Fifty  days  were  spent  in  reducing  St.  Johns,  a  village 
at  the  northern  end  of  Lake  Champlain,  where  the 
British  erected  defences  that  barred  the  waterway  to 
Canada.  When  it  fell  a  luckless  chance  aided  the 
escape  of  the  British  General  Carleton,  who  with  a 
considerable  force  went  down  the  St.  Lawrence  to 
Quebec,  arriving  there  in  season  to  dash  American 
hopes.  Montreal  delayed  Montgomery  only  a  brief 
time.  Quebec  with  its  beetling  citadel  was  the  im- 
portant objective  for  him.  But  it  was  the  important 
point  for  the  British  as  well,  and  having  to  defend  one 
of  the  two  towns  General  Carleton  hurried  to  save  the 
more  important  one. 

Meanwhile  General  Arnold  with  about  twelve  hundred 
men  was  fighting  his  way  northward  through  the  Maine 
woods  toward  Quebec.  The  enemies  he  had  to  en- 
counter were  not  human  but  were  more  formidable. 
The  Indians  were  indifferent  or  friendly,  and  there 
were  no  British  or  Tories  about  to  offer  battle.  But 
there  were  no  roads.  That  portion  of  the  route  which 
lay  along  the  course  of  the  upper  Kennebec  was  cov- 
ered by  dragging  heavy  bateaux,  laden  with  stores, 
against  a  cold  rushing  current  in  which  the  men  waded 
waist  deep,  over  rocky  bottoms.  At  points  were  low 
falls  and  rapids  impossible  of  passage  for  the  boats, 
which  had  to  be  hauled  out  over  the  steep  granite 
banks,  boats,  stores,  and  wearied  men  all  suffering  in 
the  process.  The  river  shrunk  to  a  purling  brook  and 
the  long  portage  over  the  highlands  to  the  headwaters 
of  the  River  Chaudiere,  down  which  the  expedition  was 
to  drift  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  began.     This  was  the  most 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         39 

arduous  portion  of  the  march.  Great  bogs  barred 
their  way  in  which  men  sank  to  their  shoulders  and 
were  with  difficulty  drawn  out.  The  forests  were 
thick  and  the  undergrowth  so  dense  that  paths  had  to 
be  cut  with  axes  and  the  clothing  and  bodies  of  the 
men  were  torn.  Poisonous  gnats  filled  the  air  in 
clouds.  Much  of  the  path  had  to  be  covered  two  or 
three  times  as  the  men  struggling  forward  to  the  camp- 
ing place  would  have  to  go  back  over  the  path  thus 
broken  to  bring  up  the  provisions.  Food  failed  them. 
They  ate  dogs,  candles,  roots,  and  berries,  some 
poisonous  of  which  they  fell  sick.  Some  boiled  their 
moccasins  for  soup,  others  ate  shaving  soap,  pomatum, 
and  salve.  Many  of  the  exhausted  or  sick  who  fell 
behind  perished  miserably  in  the  forest.  The  whole 
rear  guard,  when  the  march  was  all  but  ended,  gave 
up  the  fight  and  returned  to  the  Kennebec  and  so  to 
the  coast.  To  find  the  headwaters  of  the  stream  which 
was  to  take  them  to  the  St.  Lawrence  was  no  easy  task. 
In  those  impenetrable  woods  they  might  be  within  a 
few  hundred  yards  of  it  yet  not  discover  it.  Much 
of  the  time  it  rained  furiously,  but  as  the  season  ad- 
vanced the  rain  turned  to  snow,  and  the  ponds  they 
had  continually  to  pass  froze  over,  so  that  the  men 
had  to  break  the  ice  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets  to 
permit  the  passage  of  their  few  remaining  boats.  In 
83  miles  along  the  Dead  River  the  boats  had  to  be 
taken  out  and  carried  17  times.  Out  of  220  miles 
on  the  whole  journey  the  boats  had  been  hauled 
through  the  water  180  miles  and  carried  bodily  40 
miles.  Under  this  strain  the  boats,  like  the  men, 
were  going  to  pieces  fast.  At  last,  with  only  three 
days'  provisions  left,  Arnold  set  out  with  a  small  party 
on  a  swift  march  in  search  of  succor.  He  found  some 
friendly  French  settlements  and  bought  lavishly  of 
food.     When     the     fresh     provisions     reached     the 


4o  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

famished  soldiers  in  the  rear  they  gorged  themselves 
so  ravenously  that  many  died. 

They  were  now  near  the  end  of  what  was  the  most 
exacting  and  toilsome  march  of  revolutionary  days. 
But  though  progress  became  easier  the  men  were  too 
greatly  fatigued  to  hasten.  The  last  30  miles  took 
10  days,  though  so  slight  were  the  natural  obstacles 
that  they  should  have  been  passed  in  two.  Before 
starting  out  it  was  estimated  that  the  march  from  what 
is  now  Augusta  on  the  Kennebec  to  the  south  bank  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  would  take  20  days.  In  fact  it 
took  50.  Starting  with  nearly  1,200  men  the  St. 
Lawrence  was  reached  with  a  force  of  about  750.  All 
the  boats  had  been  lost  or  destroyed  and  to  cross 
the  river  Arnold  had  to  secure  some  30  birch  bark 
canoes  from  the  Indians.  He  had  no  artillery,  for  it 
had  been  known  from  the  first  that  cannon  could  not 
be  drawn  through  those  dense  northern  woods.  But 
many  of  his  small  arms  were  lost,  and  his  stock  of 
powder  was  low.  To  add  to  the  dismal  state  of  the 
shattered  force  gazing  across  the  broad  river  at  the 
towering  ramparts  and  comfortable  town  of  Quebec, 
a  cold  sleety  rain  set  in,  and  a  sharp  wind  whistled  in 
the  trees  for  two  days.  Those  who  cling  to  the 
ancient  superstitions  and  believe  in  "  a  Jonah,"  cannot 
fail  to  note  that  the  expedition  was  commanded  by 
Benedict  Arnold  and  had  among  its  subalterns  Aaron 
Burr — the  two  names  bearing  the  most  sinister  brand 
in  United  States  history. 

Notwithstanding  the  dire  state  of  his  command, 
Arnold  made  shift  to  get  across  the  river,  landing  at 
Wolfe's  Cove,  where  about  sixteen  years  earlier  the 
commander  of  that  name  had  landed  to  win  Quebec 
from  the  French.  That  he  crossed  at  all  shows  that 
the  English  on  the  two  war  vessels  anchored  in  the 
stream    were    wholly    blind   to    their    duty.     Yet    all 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         41 

crossed  in  safety  and  clambered  up  the  path  by  which 
Wolfe   had  reached  the   Plains   of  Abraham.     Once 
there  what  was  there  to  do?     Quebec  was  surrounded 
by  stout  walls,  some  remnants  of  which  are  still  stand- 
ing.    While  Arnold  had  been  struggling  in  the  woods 
and  rapids  of  Maine   the  city  had   been   reenforced 
until  its  defenders  outnumbered  the  besiegers  and  had 
withal  the  advantage  of  protection  and  an  ample  sup- 
ply of  ammunition — the  Americans  were  reduced  to 
five  rounds  each.     Under  such  conditions  there  was 
no  hope  of  success  in  an  assault.     Arnold  tried  at  first 
to  win  his  point  by  a  characteristic  game  of  bluff.     He 
paraded  his  troops  and  in  boastful  terms  called  on  the 
British    commander    to    surrender,    but   was   properly 
laughed  at.     In  the  end  he  withdrew  his  bedraggled 
force  to  the  Point  aux  Trembles,  there  to  await  Mont- 
gomery.    A  letter  had  been  dispatched  to  the  latter 
urging  haste,  but  the  Indian  runner  to  whom  it  was 
entrusted  was  faithless  and  delivered  it  to  the  British. 
Montgomery,  meanwhile,  at  the  head  of  an  insub- 
ordinate body  of  troops,   was  making  his  way  from 
Montreal  toward  Quebec.     Only  three  hundred  were 
willing  to  follow  him.       Some  pleaded  illness,  a  great 
number  dropped  out  because  the  time  of  their  enlist- 
ment was  past,  others  simply  deserted.     It  was  then 
winter  and  the  hardships   of  a   Canadian   December 
told  on  the  devotion  of  the  soldiers.     The  progress 
down  the  St.  Lawrence  to  Quebec  was,  however  not 
difficult.     It  is   curious   to   note   that   on   his    arrival 
Montgomery    was    particularly    impressed    with    the 
soldierly  quality  of  Arnold's  men.    "  There  is  a  style 
of  discipline  among  them,"  he  wrote,  "  much  superior 
to  what  I  have  been  used  to  see  in  this  campaign.     He 
(General    Arnold)    is    active,    intelligent,    and    enter- 
prising."    It  is  rather  pathetic  in  the  light  of  his  later 
disgrace  to  read  now  of  the  high  opinion  formed  of 


42  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Benedict  Arnold  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  Revolution 
by  all  the  American  commanders  from  Washington 
down. 

Montgomery,  though  a  gallant  soldier,  put  far  too 
much  faith  in  the  theory  that  the  residents  of  the  town 
were  friendly  to  the  American  cause,  and  he  wasted 
much  time  in  attempting  to  induce  them  to  treachery. 
Letters  attached  to  arrows  were  shot  over  the  walls 
promising,  reward  to  any  inhabitant  who  would  throw 
open  the  great  gates.  A  woman  was  smuggled  in  on 
some  pretext  bearing  letters  to  prominent  merchants 
telling  of  the  profitable  patronage  which  would  follow 
the  American  entrance.  But  the  letters  were  carried 
to  Carleton,  the  woman  was  cast  into  jail,  and  the  few 
inhabitants  who  showed  signs  of  disaffection  were  ex- 
pelled from  the  city  by  the  British  commander,  who 
showed  himself  both  vigilant  and  courageous.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  there  was  not  then,  or  later,  any  con- 
siderable sympathy  with  the  American  cause  in  Quebec 
or  Lower  Canada.  The  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants 
were  French,  who,  if  they  resented  British  rule,  thought 
the  Americans  no  less  alien.  They  were  Catholics 
little  fitted  to  fraternize  with  New  England  puritan- 
ism.  Having  been  under  English  rule  but  sixteen 
years  they  had  not  learned  devotion  to  those  principles 
of  liberty  for  which  the  Americans  were  fighting.  As 
the  Revolution  progressed  thousands  of  Tories  from 
the  colonies  sought  refuge  in  Canada,  or  more  particu- 
larly in  Halifax,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a  political 
society  quite  as  British  as  England  itself. 

Disappointed  in  his  effort  to  cajole  the  defenders 
into  surrender,  Montgomery  settled  down  to  a  siege. 
It  was  a  poor  moment  for  such  an  effort  and  the  army 
was  ill-equipped  for  it.  The  ground  was  frozen  five 
feet  deep  and  the  few  intrenching  tools  the  besiegers 
possessed   could   make  little  impression   upon   it.     A 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         43 

novel  bastion  was  begun  about  four  hundred  yards 
before  one  of  the  gates.  Its  framework  was  of  walls 
of  timber  and  brush;  between  snow  was  packed  hard 
and  water  poured  over  all,  making  a  smooth  redoubt 
of  glistening  ice.  It  looked  formidable  enough,  but 
the  first  shot  from  the  enemy's  guns  that  struck  it  shat- 
tered the  walls  like  glass,  wounding  several  men  and 
endangering  Montgomery,  who  happened  to  be  inspect- 
ing the  work.  It  was  abandoned  promptly,  ice  prov- 
ing as  poor  a  defence  in  the  frozen  north  as  did  years 
later  cotton  bales  in  the  tropic  fields  about  New 
Orleans. 

Three  weeks  passed  in  misery  for  the  besieging 
troops.  Bitter  cold,  gnawing  hunger  and  to  cap  all, 
an  epidemic  of  smallpox  wrought  havoc  in  the  Ameri- 
can ranks.  The  men  lost  spirit,  murmured  loudly, 
and  signs  of  mutiny  spread.  Three  companies  of 
Arnold's  division  flatly  refused  to  serve  longer  under 
him.  Individual  desertions  reduced  the  force  to  750; 
less  than  half  the  number  Carleton  had  snugly  en- 
sconced behind  the  walls  of  Quebec.  Desperate  as 
the  chance  appeared,  Montgomery  had  no  choice  but 
to  order  an  assault  or  retire  ignominiously  from  the 
field. 

The  city  of  Quebec  is  in  two  parts.  The  older,  a 
network  of  narrow,  tortuous  streets,  and  crowded 
houses  which  even  today  gives  it  the  air  of  an  old- 
world  town,  lies  huddled  between  the  foot  of  beetling 
cliffs  and  the  rushing  St.  Lawrence.  The  upper  town 
on  the  Heights  nestles  at  the  foot  of  the  citadel  and 
was  in  1775  surrounded  by  a  stout  wall,  parts  of  which 
still  endure.  Montgomery  planned  his  attack  for  the 
night  of  December  31,  1775,  thus: 

His  army  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham  was  to  be 
divided  into  three  parts.  Two  divisions  under  Mont- 
gomery and  Arnold  were  to  descend  the  steep  cliffs  at 


44  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

different  points,  and  attack  the  lower  town  from  di- 
rectly opposite  directions.  Meeting  in  the  centre 
they  were  to  move  on  the  upper  town  by  the  roadway 
unblocked  by  any  wall.  The  division  left  on  the 
Heights  was  to  make  a  fierce  show  of  assaulting  St. 
John's  gate,  to  engage  the  enemy's  attention  there,  thus 
giving  the  real  attack  of  Montgomery  and  Arnold  a 
better  opportunity. 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  troops 
moved.  The  snow  was  falling  heavily  and  lay  heaped 
on  the  rugged  pathway  by  which  the  Americans  were 
to  descend  to  the  riverbank.  It  had  been  planned 
that  signal  rockets  should  give  the  order  for  a  simul- 
taneous attack  of  all  three  bodies,  but  this  failed. 
Montgomery  got  first  into  action.  At  the  foot  of 
Cape  Diamond  where  a  metal  slab  still  marks  the  spot 
of  his  death,  he  found  progress  barred  by  a  stout 
palisade  but  as  this  was  undefended  a  breach  was  soon 
made.  Montgomery  was  first  through  into  the  black- 
ness beyond.  Faintly  outlined  in  the  night,  about 
fifty  yards  away,  stood  a  dark  and  sinister  blockhouse. 
On  the  one  side  towered  the  crags ;  on  the  other  rushed 
the  icy  river.  No  light  gleamed  from  the  menacing 
castle.  It  might  be  deserted.  Fearlessly  Montgom- 
ery pressed  forward,  crying  to  the  New  York  troops 
behind  him,  "  Men  of  New  York,  you  will  not  fear  to 
follow  where  your  general  leads.  Push  on,  brave  boys, 
and  Quebec  is  ours  I  "  At  the  words,  as  though  they 
were  a  signal,  the  blockhouse  sprang  to  malignant  life, 
and  spat  out  jets  of  fire  and  streams  of  lead.  Mont- 
gomery fell  dead  at  the  first  fire,  his  two  aides  falling 
by  his  side.  His  force  fell  back  in  confusion,  and 
though  rallied,  advanced  no  more  to  the  attack. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  lower  town  Arnold  was 
fighting  no  less  gallantly,  and  meeting  an  equally  des- 
perate resistance.     So  narrow  was  the  path  that  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         45 

Americans  had  to  advance  in  single  file.  Arnold  led 
the  way  with  thirty  riflemen;  next,  an  artillery  under 
Captain  Lamb  with  one  field-piece  which  owing  to  the 
depth  of  the  snow  was  never  put  in  action;  finally 
Morgan  with  riflemen  and  scaling  ladders.  Into  the 
dark  and  narrow  streets  of  the  town  the  column  wound 
its  way,  meeting  no  resistance  until  a  two-gun  battery 
was  encountered.  Arnold  fell  at  the  first  fire  badly 
wounded.  Morgan  taking  command,  fought  onr 
taking  the  battery  and  fighting  his  way  through  the 
tangle  of  streets,  from  the  house  windows  of  which 
half-clad  citizens  poured  down  a  harassing  fire.  A 
second  barricade  was  reached  stretching  across  from 
the  cliffs  to  the  river.  Here  the  American  riflemen 
dashed  up,  firing  through  the  embrasures  at  the  defend- 
ers while  scaling  ladders  were  planted  on  the  redoubt. 
British  forces  rushed  down  from  the  hill,  and  a  fire 
from  every  fortified  point  was  turned  upon  the  Ameri- 
cans crowded  in  the  narrow  street. 

For  a  time  they  wavered,  but  finally  in  a  gallant 
rush  carried  the  position.  Lamb,  the  artillery  com- 
mander, fell  with  his  whole  lower  jaw  shot  away.  The 
loss  among  the  men  was  heavy,  but  Morgan  prepared 
for  a  rush  upon  the  upper  town.  By  this  time,  how- 
ever, the  British  had  discovered  that  the  attack  upon 
St.  John's  gate  was  a  mere  ruse.  The  Americans 
there  had  been  easily  beaten  back  and  the  British  forces 
were  left  free  to  rush  down  the  cliffs  and  take  Morgan 
in  the  flank  and  rear.  The  town  was  awake.  Alarm 
bells  were  clanging  out  from  the  cathedral  on  the  hill 
and  the  lesser  churches  by  the  riverside.  Cannon 
roared  from  the  citadel  and  the  barricades  in  the 
streets.  Citizens  flocked  to  aid  the  defenders  though 
the  night  was  still  so  black  that  one  could  scarce  tell 
friend  from  foe.  Morgan's  rear  guard  was  cut  off 
and  compelled  to  surrender.     Almost  destitute  of  offi- 


46  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

cers  he  took  refuge  in  a  stone  warehouse  and  defended 
himself  gallantly  though  hopelessly.  With  day  came 
the  news  of  Montgomery's  death  and  American  defeat 
all  along  the  line  and  Morgan  yielded  to  the  inevitable, 
but  with  the  honors  of  war  full  upon  him. 

It  had  been  a  hard  fought  battle.  The  Americans 
lost  1 60  killed  and  wounded;  the  British  only  20. 
The  Americans  lost  Montgomery,  slain,  Arnold  and 
Lamb  badly  wounded.  Montgomery's  two  aides  fell 
with  him.  "  This  will  insure  me  a  decent  burial,"  one 
of  them,  Captain  Cheesman,  had  said  with  a  laugh  as 
he  thrust  some  gold  in  his  pocket  before  going  out  on 
his  last  service.  The  British  recognized  the  gallantry 
of  the  attack  and  gave  to  Montgomery's  remains  a 
soldier's  funeral  within  the  walls,  whence  they  were 
removed  forty-two  years  later  to  their  present  resting 
place  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard  in  New  York. 

With  reinforcements  and  repeated  changes  of  com- 
manders, the  Americans  kept  up  a  futile  siege  of 
Quebec  for  months,  only  to  abandon  it  when  the  break- 
up of  winter  opened  the  St.  Lawrence  to  British  ves- 
sels. Then  the  troops  were  withdrawn  and  Canada 
abandoned.  That  New  Year's  battle  was  big  with 
importance  to  the  world.  Had  it  been  won  Canada 
would  to-day  be  part  of  the  United  States.  Had  Mont- 
gomery lived  the  battle  might  not  have  been  won,  but 
at,  any  rate  the  struggling  colonies  would  have  been 
saved  a  gallant  and  an  able  general.  Had  the  ball 
which  struck  Arnold's  knee  reached  his  brain  instead 
he  would  have  left  a  fame  like  Montgomery's  in  place 
of  making  of  his  name  a  synonym  for  traitor  and  a 
by-word  of  infamy. 

Meanwhile  Washington  was  molding  his  motley 
forces  into  an  army,  and  drawing  more  tightly  his  lines 
about  Boston.     The   cannon   from   Ticonderoga   had 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         47 

arrived  and  that  gallant  ranger  of  the  seas,  Captain 
John  Manley,  had  furnished  the  troops  with  a  store  of 
captured  powder.  Congress,  too,  had  set  up  saltpetre 
and  gunpowder  works,  and  was  preparing  for  a  long 
war.  For  weapons,  other  than  great  guns,  no  provi- 
sion was  needed.  Every  farmer  had  his  rifle  and  pow- 
der horn  hanging  over  his  chimney-piece  and  had  but 
to  take  it  down  to  be  equipped  for  war.  Good 
weapons  these  were  too;  trustworthy  at  three  hundred 
yards  while  the  British  muskets  bungled  at  half  the 
distance.  Uniforms  were  few.  Washington,  being 
the  richest  man  of  his  day  in  the  colonies  and  punctil- 
ious about  his  appearance,  clad  himself  in  a  blue  coat 
with  buff  lapels,  buff  riding  breeches,  knee  boots,  and 
a  cocked  hat.  One  or  two  of  the  New  England  mili- 
tia companies  wore  a  sort  of  uniform  fabricated  by 
the  farmwives  at  home,  but  one  such  soldier  tells  how, 
at  Lexington,  they  were  fain  to  wear  their  ordinary 
clothing  over  their  gay  trappings  lest  they  be  too  con- 
spicuous. The  hunting  shirt,  a  sort  of  smock  belted 
at  the  waist  and  worn  outside  the  trousers,  was  the 
favorite  garment  and  Washington  in  a  proclamation 
urged  all  the  soldiers  to  garb  themselves  thus. 
Lafayette,  who  came  to  this  country  shortly  after  the 
British  had  been  expelled  from  Boston,  wrote  of  the 
patriotic  army  in  this  wise: 

"  About  eleven  thousand  men,  ill-armed  and  still 
worse  clothed,  presented  a  strange  spectacle.  Their 
clothes  were  parti-colored  and  many  of  them  were 
almost  naked.  The  best  clad  wore  hunting  shirts, 
large  gray  linen  (cotton)  coats  which  were  much  used 
in  Carolina.  .  .  .  They  were  always  arranged 
in  two  lines,  the  smallest  men  in  the  first  line." 

No  particular  effort  was  made  to  instruct  them  in 
military  tactics.  In  fact  not  until  Baron  von  Steuben 
came  over  from  Prussia  did  any  officer  take  pains  to 


48  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

drill  them  in  the  manual  of  arms.  Perhaps  that  was 
one  cause  of  their  strength.  Like  the  Boers  in  South 
Africa  they  thought  more  of  picking  off  the  enemy  than 
of  keeping  their  own  lines  straight,  and  as  for  prac- 
tising the  "  goose  step,"  even  now  beloved  of  the 
German  drill  sergeant,  the  man  who  sought  to  enforce 
it  on  the  Colonials  would  have  had  a  counter-revolution 
on  his  hands.  At  first  the  officers  had  no  distinctive 
regalia,  but  at  last  cockades  of  ribbon  were  ordered  for 
them.  Sons  and  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  who  are 
cherishing  portraits  of  ancestors  in  cocked  hats,  smart 
surtouts  and  epaulets  must  credit  these  adornments  to 
the  artist  rather  than  the  tailor.  Nor  was  there  then 
any  Patriot  flag  regularly  adopted.  Some  regiments 
carried  a  yard  of  bunting  showing  a  coiled  rattlesnake 
with  the  legend,  "  Don't  tread  on  me!  "  but  the  adop- 
tion of  a  snake  as  an  emblem  of  liberty  was  not  widely 
popular  and  the  flags  disappeared  before  the  sneers 
of  the  Loyalists. 

Within  Boston  were  about  12,000  troops,  all  regu- 
lars. Why  they  did  not  sally  forth  and  cut  to  pieces 
the  ill-equipped  American  recruits  is  still  one  of  the 
puzzles  of  the  war.  Some  say  General  Howe  was 
unnerved  by  the  slaughter  of  Bunker  Hill.  Others 
that  he  secretly  sympathized  with  the  patriot  cause. 
At  any  rate  he  gave  Washington  the  thing  he  needed 
most  next  to  powder — time  to  discipline  his  army  and 
perfect  his  lines.  True,  the  British  kept  up  a  scatter- 
ing fire  of  musketry  and  cannon  against  the  American 
lines,  but  it  was  so  little  effective  that  the  death  of  an 
American  by  a  British  projectile  seemed  as  rare  as  one 
from  a  lightning  stroke.  As  the  Americans  held  all 
the  country  about  Boston  the  beleaguered  troops  and 
citizens  began  to  suffer  sorely  for  food.  Eggs  cost 
more  than  $2.50  a  dozen,  geese  ten  shillings,  and 
chickens   five    shillings    each;    beef    and    pork    nearly 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         49 

thirty  cents  a  pound.  These  prices  sound  high  now, 
but  the  ordinary  high  purchasing  power  of  money  at 
that  time  made  them  doubly  exorbitant.  The  British 
made  raids  on  the  surrounding  country  for  more  sup- 
plies, but  were  harried  on  each  expedition  by  American 
riflemen  whose  vigilance  was  as  admirable  as  their  dis- 
regard for  discipline  was  scandalous.  Once  in  a  while 
a  coaster  from  Newfoundland  would  slip  in  with  a 
cargo  of  provisions  but  such  supplies  barely  met  the 
demands  of  the  people  rich  enough  to  pay  dearly  for 
them.  The  troops  and  the  common  people  were  fed 
on  salt  provisions  and  the  inevitable  outbreak  of  scurvy 
was  the  result.  While  unwilling  to  attack  the  Ameri- 
cans in  their  trenches  the  British  ravished  the  unpro- 
tected villages  along  the  coast  and  the  burning  of 
Falmouth,  the  bombardment  of  Bristol,  and  pillaging 
of  Jamestown,  opposite  Newport,  were  occurrences  that 
injured  their  perpetrators  by  arousing  the  bitter  resent- 
ment of  the  Americans.  Washington  himself  would 
have  liked  to  assault  Boston;  to  put  to  the  sharp  test 
of  battle  the  issue  between  his  army  and  that  of  Howe. 
But  two  councils  of  his  generals  voted  against  such 
action,  and,  as  the  outcome  proved,  wisely. 

So  wore  on  the  winter.  As  March  approached  the 
cannon  hauled  over  the  mountains  from  Ticonderoga 
arrived,  the  store  of  powder  was  replenished,  the  places 
of  men  whose  terms  of  enlistment  had  expired  were 
filled.  It  was  time  to  do  more  than  sit  and  watch  the 
captive  British  slowly  starve.  Accordingly  it  was  de- 
termined to  seize  Dorchester  Heights,  an  eminence 
that  commanded  Boston  from  the  south.  The  ground 
was  still  frozen  hard  on  March  2,  1776,  when  this 
movement  was  begun  and  in  order  to  cover  the  noise 
of  the  artillery  and  supply  trains  moving  to  the 
Heights,  a  fierce  cannonade  was  opened  on  Boston.  It 
did  no  injury  to  the  city  but  did  divert  the  British 


So  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

attention  from  what  was  actually  being  done.  When 
morning  broke  the  new  works  were  there  in  plain  sight 
of  the  British.  Howe  was  perplexed.  "  There  must 
have  been  12,000  men  engaged  in  this  great  work/' 
he  wrote.  As  a  matter  of  fact  there  were  less  than 
1,200.  Washington  expected  that  Howe  would  im- 
mediately attack  the  works  which  made  Boston  un- 
tenable and  commanded  a  great  part  of  the  harbor  as 
well.  To  meet  such  an  attack,  he  prepared  for  a 
counter  attack  on  the  town,  and  was  bitterly  disap- 
pointed when  the  British  general  failed  to  move. 
Howe  did  in  fact  plan  an  assault  for  the  5th  of  March 
— the  anniversary  of  the  Boston  Massacre.  "  Re- 
member it  is  the  5th  of  March  and  avenge  the  death 
of  your  brethren !  "  said  Washington  to  his  men  when 
expecting  the  attack.  "  It  will  be  another  Bunker  Hill 
affair  or  worse/'  said  the  people  who  lined  the  streets 
in  Boston  as  the  British  marched  out  to  the  boats 
which  were  to  take  them  to  the  point  of  attack.  Night 
and  an  ebb  tide  delayed  them.  Meanwhile  both  sides 
kept  up  an  artillery  duel  noisy,  but  fruitless.  "  I  went 
to  bed  about  twelve,"  wrote  Mrs.  Adams,  of  the 
family  of  patriots,  "  and  rose  again  a  little  after  one. 
I  could  no  more  sleep  than  if  I  had  been  in  the  engage- 
ment; the  rattle  of  the  windows,  the  jar  of  the  house; 
the  continual  roar  of  24-pounders,  and  the  bursting  of 
shells  give  us  such  ideas  and  realize  a  scene  to  us  of 
which  we  could  scarcely  form  any  conception."  Ter- 
rifying as  it  was  to  the  good  lady,  it  was  only  the  noise 
of  war — carnage  there  was  none.  In  the  end  a  savage 
storm  delayed  the  British  advance  by  water  until  the 
American  works  became,  in  Howe's  opinion,  im- 
pregnable. 

Washington  was  admittedly  disappointed  in  Howe's 
failure  to  attack.  Though  general  of  the  army  for 
months  he  had  taken  part  in  no  battle.     Since  Bunker 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         51 

Hill  all  had  been  dig,  drill,  and  discipline,  and  his 
soldierly  nature  cried  aloud  for  action. 

No  one  can  study  the  history  of  the  Revolution 
without  being  convinced  that  the  caution  for  which 
Washington  was  sometimes  reproached,  and  which 
withal  was  the  means  of  his  saving  the  nation,  was  less 
natural  than  acquired  through  stress  of  untoward  cir- 
cumstances. In  battle  he  more  than  once  risked  him- 
self more  freely  than  should  a  commanding  officer,  and 
in  all  the  operations  about  Boston  he  was  with  difficulty 
restrained  from  staking  all  on  the  issue  of  battle. 

At  this  time  no  assault  was  needed.  Having  lin- 
gered but  briefly  in  New  England's  capital  after  the 
American  guns  first  peered  down  from  Dorchester  and 
Nook's  Hill,  on  the  17th  of  March  with  all  his  troops 
and  about  one  thousand  Loyalist  citizens  of  the  town, 
Howe  took  to  his  fleet  of  warships  and  transports. 
The  Americans  moving  first  upon  the  redoubt  at  Bun- 
ker Hill,  found  it  defended  by  two  or  three  dummy 
sentinels  made  of  wood.  Approaching  the  city  from 
the  other  direction  they  met  no  opposition,  nor  any  sign 
of  a  Redcoat.  The  British  had  fled  and  in  all  the 
American  colonies  there  was  left  no  regular  soldier  of 
King  George  ashore. 

Dropping  down  the  bay  to  Nantasket  Roads  Howe 
lay  at  anchor  for  several  days,  then  sailed  for  Halifax. 
All  his  operations  since  the  day  of  Bunker  Hill  went 
far  to  justify  the  bitter  attacks  made  upon  him  in  Eng- 
land. He  was  accused  of  being  a  coward  who  dared 
not  engage  in  battle,  or  a  traitor  only  too  ready  to 
see  the  American  cause  triumph.  What  was  probably 
the  fact,  as  shown  throughout  his  whole  military 
career,  was  that  he  did,  like  the  Whig  party  in  England, 
sympathize  to  some  degree  with  the  Colonists  and  clung 
too  long  to  the  hope  that  by  avoiding  measures  of 
extreme  severity  he  might  still  bring  the  Americans  to 


52  STORYOFOURARMY 

peaceful  acceptance  of  British  authority.  As  long  as 
he  remained  in  command  in  America  this  effort  to  pave 
the  way  for  peaceful  negotiations  was  apparent  in  his 
every  act  and  made  his  military  operations  notable  for 
indecision  and  the  rejection  of  chances  to  end  the  up- 
rising at  a  stroke. 

In  the  Boston  operations  he  showed  the  utmost 
weakness  in  not  striking  Washington  at  the  moment 
when  the  American  army  was  half-formed  and  less 
than  half-armed.  Washington  himself  in  more  than 
one  letter  expressed  his  amazement  that  he  should  act 
thus.  When  the  British  sailed  they  took  away  about 
eleven  thousand  soldiers  and  one  thousand  Loyalist 
refugees.  They  had  ten  days  in  Boston  to  complete 
their  preparations  for  the  evacuation  but,  nevertheless, 
left  behind  a  prodigious  quantity  of  provisions  and 
military  stores  of  vast  value  to  Washington's  army. 
True,  much  powder  had  been  thrown  into  the  bay,  and 
most  of  the  cannon  were  made  useless  by  breaking  the 
trunnions  or  spiking.  But  what  was  left  seemed  a 
treasure  to  the  half-clad  Continentals.  Finally  when 
Howe  did  leave  Massachusetts  waters  it  was  for 
Halifax.  Had  he  sailed  to  New  York  or  Newport  he 
could  easily  have  occupied  either  city  and  his  movement 
would  have  been  considered  a  mere  change  of  base. 
Going  to  far-off  Halifax  was  rightly  construed  as  a 
retreat.  When  heard  of  in  England  it  caused  a  storm 
of  criticism,  while  in  the  colonies  it  inspired  an  en- 
thusiastic confidence  in  the  American  cause  that  bore 
fruit  a  few  months  later  in  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. 


CHAPTER  III 

The  New  York  Campaign— Operations  in  New  Jersey— Battles  of 
Trenton  and  Princeton— Creation  of  a  Regular  Army. 

Washington  was  endowed  with  an  extraordinary- 
faculty  for  swift  action,  and  an  equal  self-restraint 
which  enabled  him  to  rest  in  seeming  inaction  until  the 
precise  moment  for  striking  a  blow  should  arrive. 
When  the  British  sails  disappeared  down  the  tortuous 
channel  of  Boston  harbor  no  one  in  the  American 
trenches  could  tell  where  that  fleet  of  more  than  fifty 
ships  with  eleven  thousand  fighting  men  would  go. 
Military  reason  pointed  to  New  York  as  its  objective. 
General  Schuyler  was  there  with  a  few  battalions,  but 
the  city  and  the  bay  were  practically  undefended.  So, 
hardly  waiting  for  the  British  ships  to  be  hull  down 
below  the  eastern  horizon,  Washington  began  marshal- 
ling his  men  for  the  march  to  New  York.  In  all  he 
had  fit  for  duty  rather  more  than  twenty  thousand  men. 
About  seven  thousand  of  these  were  Massachusetts 
militia  who  were  dismissed  to  their  homes.  Five  reg- 
iments were  started  at  once  on  the  march  for  New 
York,  five  were  left  to  garrison  the  town,  and  Wash- 
ington with  the  remainder  started  southward  three 
weeks  after  the  British  evacuation. 

New  York  was  not  then  the  metropolis  of  America. 
Philadelphia  was  bigger,  and  Boston  almost  equalled 
it  in  population.  But  it  had  a  military  importance 
greater  than  any  other  city,  for  it  was  at  the  southern 
end  of  that  waterway  of  which  the  northeastern  termi- 
nus is  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  Arnold's  failure 
at  Quebec  gave  the  British  control  of  the  St.  Lawrence 

53 


54  STORYOFOURARMY 

and  it  was  only  to  be  expected  that  they  would  soon 
fight  their  way  along  Lakes  Champlain  and  George  to 
the  headwaters  of  the  Hudson.  Could  they  control 
that  stream  to  its  mouth  they  would  have  the  rebellious 
territory  cut  in  two  and  could  subdue  either  section  at 
pleasure.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  did  in  time  get 
control  of  the  whole  stream  save  at  West  Point,  and 
only  the  timely  discovery  of  Arnold's  treachery  saved 
that  point  to  the  Patriot  arms. 

New  York  itself  was  quite  incapable  of  defence  by 
the  Americans.  The  foe  had  absolute  control  of  the 
sea,  and  to  hold  the  island  city  against  the  fleet  which 
Great  Britain  could  muster  against  it  would  have  been 
an  impossible  task.  Washington  so  thought,  and  con- 
sidered seriously  destroying  the  city  altogether,  so  that 
on  their  arrival  there  the  British  should  find  only  a 
ruined  town  and  a  deserted  country-side,  instead  of  a 
flourishing  city  to  serve  as  a  base  for  operations  against 
the  surrounding  colonies.  The  city  was  undefended 
at  his  coming  and  the  defences  he  laid  out  proved  im- 
potent. A  large  and  active  portion  of  the  inhabitants 
were  Tories  who  made  the  British  welcome  on  their 
arrival,  and  throughout  the  Revolution  plotted  against 
the  American  cause. 

While  the  American  youth  has  been  taught  to  hate 
the  very  word  "  tory,"  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
in  England  there  were  those  who  sympathized  with  the 
Americans,  as  we  had  amongst  us  loyal  subjects  of 
King  George.  After  Lexington  five  hundred  pounds 
sterling  were  raised  in  the  mother  country  for  the  relief 
of  the  "  embattled  farmers."  Samuel  Rogers,  an 
English  poet  and  banker,  tells  that  in  his  childhood  his 
father  leading  in  family  prayers  besought  aid  for  the 
Americans  in  the  trenches  before  Boston. 

History  has  shown  that  from  every  point  of  view, 
save  the  political  one,  the  destruction  of  New  York  by 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         55 

the  Americans  would  have  been  a  telling  blow  to  the 
British  cause  from  the  very  first.  But  conditions  made 
it  politically  inadvisable.  New  York  had  been  no 
leader  in  the  revolutionary  activities  of  the  land.  Bos- 
ton to  the  north  and  Charleston  in  the  south  had  taken 
up  the  struggle  earlier  and  pressed  it  with  more  vigor. 
Yet  to  destroy  New  York  would  have  been  to  depress 
the  country  beyond  measure.  Some  of  the  Massachu- 
setts men  in  the  Continental  Congress  did  indeed  urge 
this  act  of  Spartan  severity — perhaps  as  Artemus  Ward 
was  later  willing  to  put  down  the  rebellion  if  he  had 
to  sacrifice  all  his  wife's  relations.  But  Washington 
finally  determined  not  only  to  spare  the  city  but  to 
defend  it  as  long  as  possible.  The  latter  part  of  this 
resolution  cost  him  dear. 

Even  while  Washington  was  marching  from  Boston 
to  New  York  the  British  expedition  for  the  capture  of 
the  latter  city  was  afloat.  England  by  this  time  had 
concluded  that  there  was  something  more  than  a  riot 
in  the  colonies,  that  the  farmers  would  fight,  and  that 
preparations  must  be  made  for  an  actual  war.  Late 
in  October,  1775,  Parliament  provided  for  an  army  of 
fifty-five  thousand  men  and  twelve  thousand  sailors  in  ad- 
dition to  those  already  employed  afloat  or  ashore.  Of 
these  twelve  thousand  were  then  cooped  up  in  Boston. 
But  where  to  get  the  men  was  the  puzzle.  English- 
men do  not  like  the  trade  of  the  soldier.  That  dislike, 
inherited  by  the  Americans,  has  kept  our  regular  army 
down  to  insignificant  proportions.  So  George  III 
and  his  ministers,  unable  to  enlist  men  at  home,  and 
being  denied  the  aid  of  compulsory  military  service, 
were  reduced  to  buying  men  abroad,  just  as  in  the  Boer 
war  more  than  a  century  later  England  bought  our 
Missouri  mules  for  South  African  service. 

For  a  time  the  market  for  mercenaries  was  bad. 
Catherine  of  Russia  diplomatically  refused  to  sell  any 


56  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

of  her  subjects  for  food  for  cannon,  though  quite  ready 
to  use  them  for  such  purpose  herself.  Holland  was 
happy  to  rout  out  a  few  thousand  men,  but  only  on  the 
proviso  that  they  should  not  be  sent  out  of  Europe. 
Frederick  the  Great  roared  with  disgust  when  asked 
for  some  of  his  troops,  and  even  refused  the  use  of 
German  ports  to  the  Brunswickers  and  Hessians  whom 
King  George  finally  bought  from  the  petty  princelings 
of  Germany.  The  employment  of  these  hired  soldiers 
— who  by  the  way  fought  very  badly — further  em- 
bittered the  colonies  against  England. 

When  Washington  had  gathered  into  New  York 
every  company  he  could  command,  he  had  a  scant 
seventeen  thousand  men,  of  whom  barely  ten  thousand 
were  fit  for  duty.  On  Staten  Island  the  British  flag 
waved  over  a  camp  of  thirty-one  thousand  men,  and  a 
great  supporting  fleet  floated  in  the  Narrows.  The 
fleet  alone  was  sufficient  to  assure  British  victory,  for 
the  situation  of  New  York  is  such  that  every  point  of 
the  city  as  it  then  existed  could  have  been  searched  with 
shells  from  the  bay  and  the  rivers,  while  an  effective 
blockade  would  have  starved  out  the  defenders  in  a 
few  weeks.  But  Sir  William  Howe  felt  that  his  pres- 
tige at  home  depended  on  a  successful  battle,  while 
Washington,  well  aware  of  the  futility  of  resistance, 
saw  that  all  he  could  do  to  delay  the  British  occupation 
would  be  well  done.  For  Carleton  was  pressing  down 
the  line  of  Lake  George  and  Lake  Champlain  from 
Canada,  and  if  Howe  could  accomplish  a  junction  with 
him  by  ascending  the  Hudson  the  territory  of  the  colo- 
nies would  be  cut  in  twain. 

By  way  of  preparing  for  defence  works  were  thrown 
up  on  the  western  end  of  Long  Island,  and  at  various 
points  on  Manhattan  Island  as  far  north  as  Kings- 
bridge.  Howe  had  the  inestimable  advantage  of  su- 
periority in  numbers  and  the  initiative.     It  was  for 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         57 

him  to  strike  and  for  Washington  to  guess  where  the 
blow  would  be  delivered.  Having  a  fleet  Howe  might 
have  landed  at  the  Battery  and  swept  northward.  Or 
he  could  have  landed  at  Spuyten  Duyvil,  at  the  far 
northern  end  of  Manhattan,  penning  the  American 
army  between  the  two  rivers  and  the  bay.  Or  he 
might  ferry  his  troops  across  the  Narrows  to  Long 
Island  and  march  upon  Brooklyn,  taking  possession  of 
Brooklyn  Heights  near  what  is  now  Wall  Street. 
Those  heights  dominated  New  York  as  the  hills  of 
Roxbury  controlled  Boston,  and  in  taking  this  plan  of 
campaign  Howe  merely  imitated  the  American  tactics 
that  had  driven  him  out  of  the  Massachusetts  city. 

Washington  had  nothing  but  intuition  to  guide  him 
in  preparing  to  meet  Howe's  attack,  but  that  his  esti- 
mate of  his  enemy  was  shrewd  was  indicated  by  the 
fact  that  he  sent  the  greater  part  of  his  army  over  to 
Long  Island  and  stationed  them  in  trenches  along  the 
crest  of  Brooklyn  Heights.  Some  detachments  he  sent 
out  to  cover  the  roads  leading  to  the  Heights,  but  this 
turned  out  to  be  a  strategic  blunder.  The  advance 
guard  was  too  small  to  hold  the  enemy,  but  it  was  too 
big  to  lose.  Lost  it  was,  however,  and  with  it  Fort 
Putnam,  now  called  Fort  Greene.  The  line  of  defence 
is  now  preserved  in  Prospect  Park  and  marked  with  a 
boulder  bearing  a  suitable  tablet.  In  this  first  disas- 
ter of  the  New  York  campaign  the  American  loss  was 
970  killed  and  wounded  and  1,077  captured — a  heavy 
toll  to  be  taken  out  of  a  total  force  of  about  8,000. 
The  British  loss  was  400. 

This  was  Howe's  golden  moment.  Fully  half  of 
Washington's  effective  army  was  intrenched  along 
the  Heights.  Though  their  works  were  strong  they 
were  no  match  for  the  40  cannon  and  the  nearly 
20,000  men  under  Howe's  command.  Back  of  them 
a   steep   declivity  sloped   down   to   the   rushing  East 


58  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

River,  notorious  for  the  force  of  its  tides.  An  attack 
in  force  would  have  driven  the  Americans  into  the 
river,  or  compelled  their  surrender.  Such  a  disaster 
might  even  have  ended  the  Patriot  cause. 

But  instead  of  pushing  his  advantage  Howe  sat  down 
to  rest  and  began  preparations  for  a  siege.  At  the 
first  news  of  the  defeat  of  Putnam,  Washington  rushed 
to  the  scene  with  reinforcements  and  began  strengthen- 
ing his  works  as  though  he  intended  to  fight  there.  A 
brief  survey  of  the  field  convinced  him  that  an  effort  to 
hold  the  position  would  be  risking  too  much  on  the 
doubtful  issue  of  an  unequal  battle.  Accordingly  he 
began  preparations  to  move  his  army  back  to  New 
York,  and  did  actually  so  withdraw  it  without  leaving 
a  man  behind.  On  the  second  night  after  the  battle, 
August  29,  he  put  his  eight  thousand  men  into  flat 
boats,  and  in  the  very  face  of  a  hostile  fleet  ferried 
them  across  to  Manhattan  Island.  Brooklyn  was  lost, 
New  York  was  doomed  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
British,  but  the  army  was  saved  and  had  been  hardened 
by  its  trial  by  fire. 

In  following  the  course  of  the  fighting  in  and  around 
New  York  it  must  be  kept  in  mind  that  Washington 
never  had  a  chance  of  holding  the  city,  and  knew  it 
from  the  first;  that  his  whole  fight  was  for  delay  and 
that  battles  in  which  he  was  worsted  were  in  fact  vic- 
tories, for  they  served  to  check  a  little  longer  the  ad- 
vance of  the  enemy  toward  the  Hudson  and  a  juncture 
with  the  troops  of  Carleton.  Howe  unwittingly  aided 
Washington  by  failing  to  press  his  advantage  when 
won.  After  his  success  on  Long  Island  his  troops 
rested  in  camp  for  two  weeks,  then  crossed  the  East 
River  and  landed  at  Kip's  Bay,  near  the  present  foot 
of  Thirty-second  Street.  Washington  had  a  small 
body  of  militia  there  to  impede  the  landing,  and  he 
himself  was  speedily  upon  the  scene  with  two  New 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         59 

England  brigades.  To  his  amazement  and  unbridled 
wrath  these  troops  fell  into  a  panic  at  the  first  fire  and 
began  to  retreat  without  firing  a  shot.  At  this  spec- 
tacle the  fighting  blood  of  Washington,  the  rage  that 
sometimes  forced  him  into  personal  combat  when  as 
general  he  should  have  taken  thought  for  his  own 
safety,  mastered  him.  Sword  and  pistol  in  hand  he 
rode  into  the  midst  of  the  routed  troops,  heaping  re- 
proaches and  imprecations  upon  them  and  forcing  his 
way  through  the  mob  to  get  at  the  enemy.  His  offi- 
cers implored  him  to  spare  himself  from  danger,  but 
were  brusquely  ordered  to  stand  aside.  For  a  time 
his  example  held  his  demoralized  troops,  but  the  rout 
had  gone  too  far  to  be  stayed  and  in  the  end  all  fled 
leaving  the  landing  party  unopposed. 

There  was  good  reason  for  Washington's  wrath. 
In  New  York,  which  at  that  time  hardly  extended  north 
of  Wall  Street,  was  General  Israel  Putnam  with  four 
thousand  men.  If  Howe's  troops  were  landed  speed- 
ily they  could  quickly  seize  the  roads  leading  to  the 
north  and  hold  Putnam  and  nearly  one-third  of  the 
American  army  in  a  trap  from  which  there  was  no 
escape.  This,  indeed,  they  prepared  to  do,  and  as  fast 
as  landed  the  British  troops  were  pushed  forward 
toward  the  centre  of  the  island  until  they  reached  the 
point  called  Murray  Hill,  now  the  centre  of  the  fash- 
ionable shopping  district.  It  was  then  a  handsome 
farm  owned  by  Mrs.  Lindley  Murray,  mother  of  the 
author  of  the  famous  grammar  which  earned  for  gen- 
erations of  hapless  school-boys  more  beatings  than  ever 
an  army  sustained.  Mrs.  Murray  knew  something 
about  the  easy-going  habits  of  General  Howe  and  sent 
out  to  invite  him  to  luncheon.  With  a  number  of  his 
principal  officers  Howe  sat  at  the  hospitable  board  for 
two  hours,  while  his  troops,  fresh  and  fit  for  forced 
marches,  loafed  about  in  the  fields.     A  bronze  tablet 


60  STORY:   OF   OUR   ARMY 

stands  on  Park  Avenue,  near  Thirty-Seventh  Street,  in 
commemoration  of  Mrs.  Murray's  diplomacy. 

Putnam,  meanwhile,  leaving  behind  his  tents,  blan- 
kets, and  heavy  guns,  marched  his  men  along  the  bank 
of  the  Hudson  as  far  north  as  Bloomingdale,  where  he 
came  in  touch  with  the  right  wing  of  the  main  army 
and  was  safe. 

The  American  lines  now  extended  directly  across 
Manhattan  Island  from  the  juncture  of  the  Harlem 
and  East  Rivers  to  the  Hudson,  somewhat  north  of  the 
point  at  which  Grant's  tomb  now  stands.  This  situ- 
ation was  not  at  all  to  Howe's  liking.  Mrs.  Murray's 
lunch  made  scant  amends  for  the  lost  opportunity  to 
gobble  up  Putnam  and  his  four  thousand  men.  So  for 
once  without  waiting  to  rest  he  attacked  the  centre  of 
the  American  line  but  was  repulsed  with  a  loss  of 
three  hundred  men,  the  Americans  losing  sixty. 

There  followed  four  weeks  more  of  inaction. 
Washington  rested  content,  for  every  week  brought 
nearer  the  time  when  winter  would  take  from  him  the 
task  of  keeping  the  bars  across  the  route  from  New 
York  to  Canada.  In  the  end  Howe  determined  to 
land  his  troops  on  the  mainland  above  the  Harlem. 
He  chose  to  send  his  troops  up  the  East  River,  for  the 
Hudson  was  guarded  near  the  northern  end  of  Man- 
hattan Island  by  Fort  Washington  on  the  New  York 
and  Fort  Lee  on  the  New  Jersey  side  of  the  river. 
The  Congress  set  great  store  by  these  works  and  thought 
they  effectually  closed  the  river  to  a  hostile  fleet,  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  they  were  totally  inadequate,  and 
on  the  9th  of  October  were  passed  without  trouble  by 
two  frigates. 

Howe  landed  his  forces  at  Throg's  Neck,  a  penin- 
sula at  the  entrance  to  Long  Island  Sound.  He  ex- 
pected no  trouble  in  getting  his  troops  to  the  mainland, 
but  Washington,  forehanded  as  usual,  had  burned  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         61 

connecting  bridge,  and  the  marsh  over  which  the 
British  troops  had  to  advance  was  submerged  at  high 
tide.  Howe  thus  was  checked  again,  for  six  days  this 
time,  and  Washington  took  advantage  of  the  halt  to 
withdraw  all  his  troops  from  Manhattan  save  a  gar- 
rison at  Fort  Washington. 

For  days  there  followed  continuous  fighting  through- 
out that  country  known  to  New  Yorkers  as  "  the 
Bronx,"  now  covered  with  apartment  houses,  but  then 
rugged  and  affording  good  ground  for  the  sort  of 
fighting  under  cover  to  which  the  American  army  was 
best  adapted.  Howe  pressing  on  from  the  east,  and 
Rahl,  with  his  Hessians  coming  up  from  Manhattan, 
pushed  Washington  in  front  and  on  the  flank,  forcing 
him  steadily  back  toward  the  Hudson.  The  hardest 
fighting  was  near  White  Plains,  where  the  Americans 
lost  130  killed  and  wounded,  and  the  British  231. 
While  Howe  was  considering  attacking  the  American 
works  here,  Washington  again  slipped  away,  and  took 
up  a  strong  position  at  Newcastle  where  he  was  left 
unmolested. 

Unhappily  there  had  been  left  at  Fort  Washington 
a  garrison  of  more  than  3,000  men  with  artillery 
and  stores.  This  little  force  was  cut  off  from  Wash- 
ington's main  army  by  the  whole  of  Howe's  command. 
If  attacked  it  would  have  no  fate  save  surrender 
or  death.  Washington  recognized  the  peril  of  the 
situation  and  wished  to  withdraw  the  garrison  to  New 
Jersey  which  could  readily  have  been  done.  Two 
explanations  of  his  not  doing  so  are  given  in  history. 
According  to  one,  his  generals  were  so  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  Fort  Washington  was  impregnable,  and 
Congress  was  so  insistent  upon  its  being  held,  that  he 
surrendered  his  own  judgment  and  retained  the  gar- 
rison. According  to  the  other,  he  did  actually  instruct 
General  Greene  to  withdraw  the  garrison,  and  went 


62  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

himself  to  West  Point  to  supervise  the  erection  of  a 
fort  there  that  should  effectively  block  all  transit  by  the 
Hudson — something  Forts  Lee  and  Washington  had 
already  failed  to  do. 

While  Washington  was  thus  absent  came  special 
orders  from  Congress  that  the  fort  should  not  be  aban- 
doned save  in  case  of  the  direst  extremity.  Greene 
was  in  a  dilemma.  Washington's  orders  for  the  evac- 
uation were  not  peremptory,  but  left  Greene  a  certain 
latitude  of  judgment.  He  personally  believed  that 
the  fort  could  be  successfully  defended,  but  he  did  not 
know — nor  did  anyone  else  until  some  twenty  years 
later — that  a  traitor,  one  William  Demont,  adjutant  to 
Colonel  Magaw  in  command,  went  into  the  British 
lines  and  furnished  Lord  Percy  with  plans  of  the  fort 
and  a  statement  of  the  garrison  and  armament. 
Greene,  meanwhile,  had  reenforced  Colonel  Magaw, 
and  the  Americans,  wholly  ignorant  of  their  betrayal, 
had  every  hope  of  holding  the  post. 

When  Washington  reached  Fort  Lee  it  was  too  late 
to  withdraw  the  menaced  garrison,  since  several  of  the 
enemy's  ships  had  passed  up  the  Hudson  and  that  way 
of  retreat  was  closed.  But  the  confident  messages  of 
Magaw,  supplemented  by  the  assurances  of  Greene, 
somewhat  allayed  his  misgivings  and  he  was  able  to 
watch  from  the  New  Jersey  side,  through  his  field 
glasses  the  next  day,  the  British  preparations  for  the 
assault,  without  initial  fear. 

November  15  Howe  appeared  before  the  fort  with 
an  overwhelming  force.  He  sharply  summoned 
Magaw  to  surrender,  declaring  that  if  any  resistance 
were  offered  the  whole  garrison  should  be  put  to  the 
sword.  The  summons  was  more  like  the  swashbuck- 
ling manners  of  the  buccaneers  than  characteristic  of 
Howe,  who  was  rather  a  mild-mannered  man  for  a 
soldier.     But  it  failed  to  affright  Magaw  who  replied 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         63 

with  spirit  that  if  they  wanted  the  fort  they  could  come 
and  take  it. 

Howe  at  once  sent  his  troops  forward  to  the  attack. 
Having  perfect  knowledge  of  the  contour  of  the  fort 
and  of  the  topography  of  the  land  about  it,  they 
planned  their  assault  accordingly.  The  garrison  re- 
sisted stubbornly,  but  found  that  the  enemy,  with  a 
prescience  which  seemed  to  them  supernatural,  pushed 
in  his  column  wherever  the  fort  was  weak.  Men 
went  down  fast  among  the  assailants,  four  to  each  one 
of  the  defenders,  but  they  could  afford  the  loss. 
Driven  at  last  to  the  central  point  of  the  defensive 
works,  Colonel  Magaw  saw  the  hopelessness  of  his 
case  and  surrendered.  Howe,  of  course,  made  no  ef- 
fort to  enforce  the  bloody  terms  of  his  demand  for  a 
surrender,  but  some  of  the  Hessians  did  break  from 
control  and  massacred  many  of  the  Americans — seizing 
them  unarmed,  throwing  them  to  the  ground  and  des- 
patching them  with  bayonet  stabs.  As  soon  as  Howe 
heard  of  this  he  forced  the  murderers  to  desist.  It  is 
said  by  many  historians,  the  accurate  Fiske  among 
them,  that  Washington  from  the  Jersey  shore  of  the 
river  witnessed  the  massacre,  and  the  stout  heart  that 
blazed  with  ire  in  battle  melted  into  tears  at  the  sight  of 
his  gallant  soldiers  thus  foully  slain.  If  correct  the 
incident  shows  an  admirable  trait  in  the  commander- 
in-chief,  but  the  width  of  the  Hudson  at  that  point  sug- 
gests that  it  was  rather  intuition  of  what  was  going  on, 
than  actual  sight  of  the  massacre,  that  awakened  his 
grief.^ 

This  disaster  was  one  of  the  most  grievous  that  fell 
to  the  Colonial  arms  during  the  entire  Revolution. 
True,  the  British  had  lost  500  men  in  the  action  to  the 
Americans'  150,  but  the  latter  had  surrendered  3,000 
of  Washington's  best  troops,  together  with  an  enor- 
mous quantity  of  stores  and  many  precious  guns.   More- 


64  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

over,  it  gave  to  Washington's  whole  New  York  cam- 
paign an  air  of  disastrous  failure  when  it  had  in  fact 
been  a  complete  success.  For  in  that  campaign,  while 
the  Americans  won  not  a  single  battle,  unless  the  favor- 
able result  at  White  Plains  be  called  a  victory,  they 
had  yet  won  what  they  were  fighting  for,  namely  delay. 
It  had  taken  Howe  two  months  to  move  thirty  miles. 
Winter  was  now  at  hand  and  the  route  south  from  the 
St.  Lawrence  was  already  closed  by  ice. 

The  greatest  disaster  that  might  have  followed  the 
fall  of  Fort  Washington  was  averted  by  the  merest 
chance.  The  day  before  that  battle  Washington 
started  for  the  fort  to  take  command  in  person,  but 
gave  it  up  because  of  the  supreme  confidence  of  the 
defenders.  Had  he  persisted  he  would  probably  have 
been  captured,  and  perhaps  hanged,  for  the  British 
had  not  yet  ceased  to  consider  him  a  scoundrelly  rebel. 
In  any  event,  the  chief  command  would  have  fallen 
to  General  Charles  Lee,  an  English  soldier  of  fortune, 
and  an  arrant  impostor,  whose  showy  qualities  im- 
pressed Congress  and  won  for  him  the  second  position 
in  command.  At  this  moment,  Lee,  with  six  thousand, 
was  in  an  impregnable  position  at  North  Castle,  near 
White  Plains.  Washington  needed  men.  Lee's  com- 
mand constituted  almost  half  of  his  remaining  army 
and  he  ordered  Lee  to  join  him  in  Jersey.  The 
latter  made  no  move.  If  Washington's  slender  force 
should  be  overwhelmed  by  Howe  and  the  commander 
slain  or  removed  by  Congress  so  much  the  better  for 
Lee's  fortunes.  So  he  sat  tight  in  his  trenches  and 
spent  his  days  writing  letters  derogatory  to  Washing- 
ton and  sounding  his  own  praises.  While  the  ink  was 
still  wet  on  one  of  these  precious  epistles,  the  British 
swooped  down  on  him  at  a  tavern,  where,  for  greater 
comfort,  he  abode,  some  four  miles  from  his  own 
lines.     The  people,  who  were  then,  as  now,  fond  of 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         65 

charlatans  in  uniform,  while  neglecting  the  plodding, 
persistent  soldier,  esteemed  this  a  great  disaster.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  a  great  aid  to  the  American 
cause,  as  it  removed  from  its  lines  a  marplot  and  a 
traitor.  The  British  must  have  discerned  this,  for 
instead  of  hanging  him  as  a  traitor — he  had  once  been 
a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  British  army — they 
speedily  exchanged  him  and  sent  him  back  to  make 
more  trouble.  He  really  owed  his  escape  to  Washing- 
ton, who  notified  the  British  that  he  held  five  Hessian 
officers,  whose  fate  should  be  that  which  was  inflicted 
on  Lee.  Being  thus  saved,  that  rascal  devoted  his 
leisure  time,  in  captivity,  to  formulating  plans  for 
the  assistance  of  the  British.  In  one  of  these,  in  his 
own  handwriting,  but  which  was  not  discovered  for 
nearly  eighty  years  after  the  war,  he  declared  he  was 
willing  to  stake  his  life  upon  the  subjugation  of  the 
colonies  if  his  plan  were  adopted. 

Washington,  meanwhile,  was  repeating  in  New 
Jersey  the  tactics  of  New  York.  Calling  Greene 
away  from  Fort  Lee,  barely  in  time  to  avert  a  second 
disaster  like  that  at  Fort  Washington,  he  retreated 
slowly  to  the  south,  sending  almost  daily  letters  to 
Lee,  demanding  that  he  join  the  army  with  his  de- 
tachment. His  own  ranks  were  so  depleted  that  he 
dared  not  risk  even  a  skirmish.  By  the  time  he  reached 
Princeton,  December  8,  he  had  but  three  thousand 
available  men,  and  these  were  ill-armed  and  cowed 
by  homesickness  and  a  record  of  adversity.  Putting 
the  Delaware  between  himself  and  his  enemy,  and  de- 
stroying every  bridge  or  boat  by  which  the  British 
might  hope  to  cross,  Washington  went  into  camp. 
The  British  soon  arrived  on  the  east  bank,  but  had 
no  means  of  crossing  and  Howe  and  Cornwallis  went 
back  to  New  York,  where  the  comfort  was  greater. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  thought  the  war  practically 


66  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

ended — when,  as  Paul  Jones  remarked,  "  we  had  not 
yet  begun  to  fight."  A  proclamation  of  pardon  and 
protection,  issued  at  New  York,  brought  three  thou- 
sand Tories  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  King 
George,  and  Cornwallis  had  his  trunks  packed  and 
aboard  ship  ready  to  sail  for  England  after  the 
Christmas  festivities  which  had  been  planned  for  New 
York. 

But  Washington  contributed  an  unexpected  Christ- 
mas greeting.  By  this  time  the  troops  with  which 
Lee  had  been  trifling,  and  those  under  command  of 
Gates  and  Sullivan,  had  reached  him,  increasing  his 
force  by  about  six  thousand  men.  It  was  ever  Wash- 
ington's policy  to  dispel  gloom  and  despair  in  his 
army  by  some  sudden  stroke,  which  would  restore 
confidence.  This  time  he  determined  to  attack  Rahl, 
who,  with  twelve  hundred  Hessians,  was  stationed  at 
Trenton.  It  may  be  noted  here  that  the  Hessians, 
during  the  New  Jersey  campaign  had  behaved 
like  savages  rather  than  civilized  soldiers,  burn- 
ing and  sacking  houses,  killing  non-combatants,  rav- 
ishing women  and  carrying  off  young  girls  for  brutal 
usage  in  their  camps.  Any  successful  stroke  against 
these  foreign  brutes  would  be  warmly  applauded  by 
the  country. 

Washington  determined  to  make  his  stroke  success- 
ful and  issued  orders  which,  if  obeyed,  would  have 
given  him  a  force  sufficient  to  crush  all  the  British  on 
the  east  bank  of  the  river.  Gates,  Ewing,  Putnam, 
and  Cadwallader  were  to  cross  and  join  Washington 
on  the  farther  shore.  All  failed.  Each  had  his  own 
excuse.  But  Washington  did  not  fail.  His  high 
spirit  led  his  men  across  the  rushing  Delaware,  piled 
high  with  rolling  ice-cakes,  taking  ten  hours  in  cross- 
ing, and  for  nine  miles  through  wintry  snow  and  sleet 
to  the  town  of  Trenton  he  plodded  in  the  van.     Sulli- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         67 

van  sent  word  that  his  muskets  were  wet  and  could  not 
be  fired.  "  Tell  your  general,"  responded  the  com- 
mander, "  to  use  the  bayonet.  The  town  must  be 
taken."  The  town  was  taken.  The  Hessians  had 
been  having  an  old-fashioned  Christmas  carouse,  and 
well  comforted  with  food  and  drink,  they  slept  soundly. 
When  the  cries  of  their  pickets  and  the  racket  of  the 
musketry  awoke  them,  it  was  to  a  hopeless  contest. 
Half-frozen,  mad  with  privations,  and  determined  to 
win  for  the  time  at  least  the  comfortable  quarters  of 
the  foe,  the  Americans  fought  with  desperation.  Rahl 
was  shot  down  trying  to  rally  his  men  who,  thereafter, 
ceased  to  fight  but  strove  only  to  escape.  In  this  about 
200  succeeded,  about  30  were  killed,  and  more  than 
1,000  surrendered,  with  a  large  quantity  of  needed 
stores— Washington's  Christmas  present  to  his  army. 
Two  Americans  were  killed,  and  two  frozen  on  the 
march. 

The  remainder  of  the  British  and  Hessians  in  the 
vicinity  fled  to  Princeton.  Up  at  New  York,  Corn- 
wallis  disembarked  his  troops  once  more,  and  reflected 
that  these  Americans  were  a  stubborn  sort.  Washing- 
ton sent  the  captured  banners  to  Baltimore,  where 
Congress  was  sitting,  and  marched  the  Hessian  pris- 
oners through  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  in  token  of 
his  victory.  The  public  heart  was  strengthened  at 
once,  and  enlistments  showed  a  marked  increase.  The 
people  were  ready  to  maintain  a  fighting  army. 

The  presence  of  Washington  at  Trenton  was  not 
pleasing  to  Howe  and  Cornwallis.  It  barred  the  path 
to  Philadelphia,  which  they  called  "  the  rebel  capital." 
Accordingly,  Cornwallis  gathered  some  8,000  men 
at  Princeton,  and  started  on  the  familiar  adventure 
of  "  trapping  the  Yankees."  When  he  reached 
Trenton,  he  found  the  American  force  withdrawn 
beyond  the  Assunpink,  a  small  river  flowing  into  the 


68  STORY;   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Delaware,  and  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  force  a 
crossing.  So  he  sent  back  to  Princeton  for  two  thou- 
sand more  men,  and  determined  to  attack  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  British  general  went  to  bed  in  high  spirits. 
"  We  have  the  old  fox  run  down  at  last,"  he  said, 
"  and  we  will  bag  him  in  the  morning." 

Washington  was,  indeed,  in  a  perilous  plight.     With 
his  superior  force,  Cornwallis  could  cross  the  stream 
above  the  Americans'  line  and  crowd  them  down  into 
the  angle  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers. 
In  this  predicament,  the  American  commander  deter- 
mined to  run — not  from  battle,  but  in  search  of  one 
under  more  equal  conditions.     He  figured  that  Corn- 
wallis had  so  weakened  the  British  force  at  Princeton, 
that  a  successful  blow  might  be  struck  there.     Accord- 
ingly the  campfires  were  kept  burning  brightly  through- 
out the  night.     Small  parties  of  men  were  set  to  work 
noisily  strengthening  the  breastworks  and  everything 
was  done  to  make  the  British  certain  their    enemy  was 
still  in  their  front.     While  this  was  done  the  American 
forces  slipped  out  of  the  end  of  their  works,  marched 
around  the  British  forces  and  set  out  on  the  road  to 
Princeton.     At  sunrise  Cornwallis  found  the  American 
works  empty.  The  "  Old  Fox  "  had  slipped  away  once 
more.     But  whither?     Just  as  the  question  was  asked 
the  far-away  booming  of  cannon  on  the  Princeton  road 
answered  it.     Washington  had  met  the  troops  Corn- 
wallis had  called  to  his  aid  and  giving  prompt  battle 
cut  them  to  pieces — half  fleeing  down  the  road  to  Tren- 
ton, the  other  half  making  for  New  Brunswick  where 
the  British  had  a  depot  of  supplies.     The  fight  was  too 
brief  to  be  bloody,  but  about  two  hundred  British  and 
one  hundred  Americans  fell,  while  about  three  hundred 
of  the  Redcoats  were  captured. 

Washington   now  had   Princeton   and  the   supplies 
gathered  there.     It  had  been  his  intention  to  go  on  to 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         69 

New  Brunswick,  where  there  was  a  larger  depot,  but 
his  men  were  exhausted  and  so  wretchedly  shod  that 
the  roads  were  stained  with  their  blood.  In  less  than 
three  weeks  he  had  won  two  battles  and  captured  two 
thousand  men  and  quantities  of  supplies.  Accordingly 
he  determined  to  rest,  and  with  the  British  practically 
driven  from  New  Jersey,  went  into  winter  quarters. 
His  campaign  had  been  a  marvellous  one,  winning  the 
admiration  even  of  his  adversary,  Lord  Cornwallis, 
who,  after  his  final  defeat  at  Yorktown,  took  occasion 
to  say  to  the  American  general,  "  Your  excellency's 
achievements  in  New  Jersey  were  such  that  nothing 
could  surpass  them." 

But  Washington  was  forced  to  other  achievements 
than  those  of  war.  During  the  dark  days  of  the 
retreat  through  New  Jersey  his  men  were  unpaid,  half- 
clad,  and  less  than  half-fed,  and  the  periods  of  their 
enlistment  rapidly  expiring.  To  meet  their  monetary 
needs  Washington  pledged  his  own  private  fortune,  as 
did  also  gallant  John  Stark  and  other  officers.  But 
the  desperate  condition  of  the  army  coupled  with  the 
gallant  showing  it  made  at  Trenton  impelled  Congress 
to  action.  It  was  guarded  and  half-way  action,  for  the 
people  were  still  jealous  of  a  regular  army,  though  how 
they  could  hope  to  win  a  revolution  without  one 
baffles  imagination.  Still  Congress  increased  the  num- 
ber of  the  army  to  sixty-six  thousand  men,  furnished 
by  the  states  in  prescribed  proportions,  who  were  to 
serve  for  the  period  of  the  war,  and  at  its  close  receive 
one  hundred  acres  of  land  each.  No  state  furnished 
its  full  quota  of  this  force,  nor,  in  the  end,  did  the  full 
number  of  enlistments  reach  the  number  authorized. 
Besides  this,  Washington  was  vested  with  the  powers 
practically  of  a  dictator,  and  authorized  to  raise  in  the 
name  of  the  United  States  sixteen  battalions  of  in- 
fantry, three  of  artillery,  three  thousand  light  cavalry, 


70  STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

and  a  corps  of  engineers.  This  was  a  really  national 
army  with  which  the  states  had  nothing  to  do.  About 
it  there  was  some  grumbling,  and  some  discussion  of 
the  right  of  Congress  to  create  the  force.  But  in  the 
end  it  was  accepted  as  one  of  the  powers  implied  when 
Congress  had  been  authorized  to  declare  the  United 
States  independent  and  to  wage  war  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  that  independence. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Character  of  General  Burgoyne — His  Expedition  into  New  York — 
Capture  of  Ticonderoga — Battle  of  Bennington — Battle  of  Oris- 
kany — Surrender  of  the  British  at  Saratoga. 

The  British  generals  who  faced  Washington  between 
the  beginning  at  Bunker  Hill  and  the  end  at  Yorktown, 
have  not  left  behind  them  great  names  in  military 
history.  They  invariably  gave  to  the  American  com- 
mander time  to  recoup  when  he  needed  it,  and  an 
opportunity  to  strike  hard  when  he  was  best  equipped 
for  the  striking.  Senator  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  de- 
scribes one  general  and  his  qualifications  for  command 
thus: 

"  Burgoyne  came  of  a  good  family,  and  had  made 
a  runaway  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Lord 
Derby.  As  matters  went  then,  these  were  sufficient 
reasons  for  the  appointment;  but  in  justice  to  Bur- 
goyne, it  must  be  said  that  he  had  other  attributes 
than  those  of  birth  and  marriage.  He  was  a  member 
of  Parliament  and  a  clever  debater;  a  man  of  letters 
and  an  agreeable  writer ;  a  not  unsuccessful  verse-maker 
and  playwright;  a  soldier  who  had  shown  bravery  in 
the  war  in  Portugal;  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  fash- 
ion." It  is  not  surprising  that  he  proved  the  worst 
beaten  of  all  the  British  generals.  His  type  seems  to 
have  persisted  long  after  in  the  British  army,  for  after 
the  Napoleonic  wars  the  Duke  of  Wellington  re- 
marked that  in  all  the  army  there  were  not  two  men 
who,  if  they  had  fifty  thousand  men  in  Hyde  Park, 
could  get  them  out. 

But  if  the  commanding  generals  were  deficient  in 

71 


72  STORYOFOURARMY 

capacity,  the  Ministry  at  St.  James,  which  planned 
their  grand  strategy  for  them,  was  obviously  stupid. 
It  was,  among  other  things,  obsessed  with  the  desire 
to  hold  the  Hudson  River  from  its  source  to  its  mouth 
and  thus  cut  the  colonies  in  twain.  The  purpose  was 
not  a  futile  one,  from  the  military  point  of  view, 
though  to  cut  Washington's  army  to  pieces  would 
have  more  suddenly  ended  the  Revolution.  But  the 
Ministry  wished  to  attain  their  end,  by  bringing  to- 
gether at  the  point  desired,  armies  from  widely  sepa- 
rated points.  In  1776  as  we  have  seen,  it  was  Howe's 
purpose  to  march  up  the  river's  bank  and  meet  Carle- 
jton  coming  down  from  Canada.  But  Washington 
kept  Howe  busy  enough  in  southern  New  York  and 
New  Jersey.  Carleton  did  his  part  well  enough,  but 
was  beaten  back  by  Benedict  Arnold,  who  worked 
and  fought  with  a  savagery  which  showed  his  deter- 
mination to  avenge  the  disasters  and  defeat  he  had 
suffered  in  his  own  effort  to  capture  Quebec.  With 
large  ships,  built  in  England,  and  taken  to  pieces  in 
order  to  pass  the  rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  supple- 
mented by  20  gunboats  and  more  than  200  flat- 
bottomed  bateaux,  Carleton  took  a  force  of  12,000 
men  into  Lake  Champlain,  in  the  summer  of  1776, 
and  started  for  Fort  Ticonderoga.  Arnold  was 
awake  to  his  coming.  His  woodsmen  felled  the 
forest  trees  in  Vermont  and  shaped  them  into  ship's 
timbers.  Shipwrights,  sailmakers,  gunners  with  their 
guns,  and  seamen  to  navigate  the  building  flotilla, 
had  to  be  brought  from  the  coastwise  towns.  By 
September,  he  had  a  mosquito  fleet  of  3  schooners, 
2  sloops,  3  galleys,  and  8  gondolas,  mounting  70 
guns.  About  all  he  could  hope  to  do  was  to  harass 
and  delay  Carleton,  hoping  that  winter  would  do 
the  rest — just  as  Washington  was  hoping  down  in  New 
York. 


O 

< 

>  u 

&   2 

O     o 
ft     o 

2    a 

uj      S 
S     r2 

tA 
< 

n 
o 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         73 

Carleton,  like  Howe,  cooperated  ably  with  winter. 
Brushing  aside  Arnold's  fleet,  after  a  stiff  battle  lasting 
four  hours,  he  sailed  on  to  Ticonderoga,  whither  Arn- 
old had  preceded  him.  Then  he  stopped.  The 
fortress  looked  formidable.  The  way  back  to  Quebec 
seemed  long  and  painful.  Winter  was  approaching. 
So  to  the  amazement  of  the  Americans,  who  were 
awaiting  his  attack  without  fear,  but  without  much 
hope,  he  broke  camp  and  started  back  for  Canada. 
The  blunder  was  colossal,  and  for  it  he  was  censured 
by  all  of  his  superior  officers  and  even  by  the  King 
himself. 

The  failure  of  the  efforts  to  make  a  British  river 
of  the  Hudson  in  1776,  did  not  divert  the  Ministry 
from  their  purpose,  and  during  the  winter  new  plans 
to  the  same  end  were  formulated.  This  time  Carleton 
was  to  stay  in  Quebec  and  General  Burgoyne  invade 
the  colonies  by  the  Lake  Champlain  route.  But  more : 
Colonel  St.  Leger,  with  a  smaller  force,  was  to  go  up 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  Lake  Ontario  to  Oswego  and 
proceed  thence  by  the  Mohawk  Valley  to  join  Bur- 
goyne at  the  Hudson.  The  Indians  and  the  Tories 
who,  under  the  influence  of  Sir  John  Johnson,  were 
strong  in  the  valley,  were  expected  to  aid  St.  Leger. 
Finally,  Howe  was  to  make  the  march  up  the  Hudson, 
which  Washington  had  rudely  interrupted  the  year 
before. 

On  paper,  the  programme  was  as  simple  as  drawing 
three  lines,  converging  at  a  given  point.  There 
proved,  however,  to  be  obstacles  to  its  fulfilment. 
The  first  was  natural — and  fatal.  In  a  well  cleared 
country,  with  good  roads  and  easy  intercommunica- 
tion between  all  points,  a  converging  movement  of 
this  sort  is  looked  upon  by  strategists  as  perilous,  be- 
cause the  enemy,  his  force  united  and  with  shorter 
interior  lines  to  any  point,  can  strike  any  one  of  the 


74  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

three  invading  columns  and  destroy  it  before  the  others 
can  render  aid.  This  is  vastly  more  true  when  the 
invaders  are  separated  from  each  other  by  hundreds 
of  miles  of  wilderness,  with  few  roads  and  those  little 
more  than  Indian  trails  through  the  forest.  The 
British  strategists  overlooked,  too,  the  readiness  of 
the  American  farmer  to  fight,  whether  enrolled  in  the 
army  or  not,  when  the  sound  of  an  invasion  approached 
his  home.  They  did  not  understand  the  Berserker 
wrath,  awakened  by  the  employment  of  Indians  as 
well  as  Hessians  to  slaughter  American  colonists.  And, 
finally,  they  were  probably  ignorant  of  the  crass  stu- 
pidity and  negligence  in  their  own  office,  which  enabled 
Lord  George  Germaine,  being  in  haste  to  catch  a  coach 
for  his  country-seat,  to  tuck  the  orders  to  Howe  into 
a  pigeon-hole  of  his  desk  and  leave  them  there  to  gather 
dust  until  after  the  Revolution  was  over  and  Burgoyne, 
St.  Leger,  and  Howe  safely  at  home  mooning  over 
their  defeats. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  end  for  which  the  British 
planned  so  eagerly,  the  control  of  the  Hudson,  was 
worth  while.  The  point  of  greatest  vitality  in  the 
colonies,  at  the  opening  of  the  summer  of  1777,  was 
Washington's  army  which  numbered  only  about  eight 
thousand  men.  Howe,  with  twenty  thousand,  ought 
to  have  been  able  to  crush  it  without  aid,  but  had 
Carleton  and  Burgoyne  put  on  ship  the  ten  thousand 
or  more  men  with  whom  they  invaded  northern  New 
York  and  sent  them  around  to  New  York  Bay,  they 
could  have  driven  Washington  off  the  map.  And  it 
cannot  be  too  often  reiterated  that  Washington  was 
the  brains  and  the  vital  fluid  of  the  Revolution. 

However,  the  plan  of  the  British  Ministry  was  fol- 
lowed, fortunately  for  the  Americans,  and  as  the  three 
columns  never  did  get  together,  we  may  well  consider 
the  fate  of  each  separately. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         75 

Burgoyne  entered  the  colonial  territory  first.  He 
had  an  army  of  about  8,000  men,  of  whom  3,116 
were  Hessians  and  503  Indians.  If  anything  were 
calculated  to  make  the  American  farmers  fight  fiercely, 
it  was  the  invasion  of  their  country  by  foreign  mercen- 
aries and  painted  savages.  Indeed,  it  had  already 
been  seen  in  New  Jersey  that  the  Hessians  were  as 
barbarous  and  as  indifferent  to  the  laws  of  civilized 
warfare  as  the  redskins  themselves.  The  bitterness 
awakened  by  the  personnel  of  his  army,  Burgoyne 
enhanced  by  a  fustian  proclamation,  warning  the  peo- 
ple of  devastation,  famine,  and  the  horrors  of  the 
battle  field.  He  was  gaily  sanguine  of  complete  vic- 
tory and  made  his  way  up  Lake  Champlain  with 
banners  flying  and  bands  playing,  that  the  hearts  of 
his  Indian  allies  might  be  the  more  stirred.  It  may 
be  worth  noting  here  that  the  Indians  were,  through- 
out the  campaign,  a  hindrance  rather  than  a  help  to 
Burgoyne.  At  the  outset,  he  besought  them  "  to  re- 
strain their  passions,"  to  conduct  themselves  "  in  ac- 
cordance   with    the    religion    and    laws    of    warfare 

*  *  *  which  belonged  to  Great  Britain  "  and 
which  positively  forbade  "  bloodshed  when  not  im- 
posed in  arms,"  and,  finally,  told  them  that  "  aged 
men,  women,  children,  and  prisoners  were  sacred  from 
the  knife,  even  in  conflict."  The  redmen  listened  in 
amaze,  grunted  in  disgust,  and  went  on  handling  the 
tomahawk  and  scalping  knife  as  of  yore.  The  Ger- 
man officers  with  the  army,  reported  to  their  sover- 
eigns repeated  outrages,  one  chronicling  a  day  in 
which  the  Indians  brought  twenty  scalps  into  camp. 

At  first,  events  seemed  to  justify  all  Burgoyne's 
hopes.  Fort  Ticonderoga,  owing  to  the  neglect  of 
Congress,  was  barely  half-garrisoned,  and  by  a  singu- 
lar neglect  of  plain  prudence,  a  tall  hill  near  by,  called 
Mt.  Defiance,  which  wholly  commanded  the  fort,  had 


76  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

not  been  occupied.  There  had  been  discussion  of  this 
very  point  among  the  American  officers,  who  finally 
decided  that  the  hill  was  too  steep  for  the  enemy  to 
drag  heavy  siege  guns  to  the  top.  But  this  is  pre- 
cisely what  the  British  did  do.  "Where  a  goat  can 
go,  a  man  can  go ;  "  said  General  Phillips,  of  Bur- 
goyne's  army,  "  and  where  a  man  can  go,  he  can  drag 
a  gun."  And  so  after  some  days'  hard  work  on  the 
side  of  the  hill  shielded  from  American  observation, 
the  dogged  general  broke  out  a  pathway  and  capped 
the  hill  with  a  neat  battery,  which  made  Fort  Ticon- 
deroga  untenable. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  abandon  the  fort, 
and  St.  Clair  fled  under  cover  of  night.  He  did  not 
get  off  scot  free,  however,  as  by  ill-luck  a  frame  house 
within  the  fort  caught  fire  and  the  flames  aroused  the 
British  to  pursuit.  In  their  flight,  the  Americans  lost 
heavily,  but  finally  reached  Schuyler  with  the  main 
army  at  Fort  Edward,  after  a  loss  of  about  one-third 
of  St.  Clair's  men. 

The  fall  of  Ticonderoga  produced  vast  rejoicing 
in  England  and  corresponding  wrath  in  America. 
After  the  fashion  of  British  generals,  who  won  an 
initial  skirmish,  Burgoyne  dispatched  at  once  news 
of  his  victory  to  England  with  as  much  boasting  as 
though  his  whole  campaign  were  ended.  Horace 
Walpole  describes  the  childish  George  III  dancing  into 
the  Queen's  apartments,  clapping  his  hands  and  crying, 
UI  have  beaten  the  Americans!  I  have  beaten  all 
the  Americans!"  At  this  very  moment,  Burgoyne 
was  in  a  most  precarious  position  and  on  his  way  to  a 
field  on  which  he  was  destined  to  be  soundly  beaten. 

The  Americans,  for  their  part,  were  savage  with 
wrath.  Why  had  not  Mt.  Defiance  been  fortified? 
"We  shall  never  be  able  to  defend  a  post  until  we 
shoot  a  general,"  said  John  Adams,  and  the  finger  of 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         77 

scorn  was  pointed  at  St.  Clair,  Schuyler,  and  Gates, 
one  of  whom  must  have  been  responsible  for  the  unde- 
fended state  of  Mt.  Defiance.  But,  after  all,  the 
value  of  Fort  Ticonderoga,  to  either  friend  or  foe, 
was  greatly  overestimated.  Burgoyne  found  it  a  bur- 
den, for  he  had  to  leave  an  eighth  of  his  force  to  de- 
fend it.  If  reduced  to  its  present  condition  of  ruin, 
neither  the  British  nor  the  American  arms  would  have 
suffered. 

The  country  into  which  Burgoyne  now  plunged,  was 
the  most  efficient  of  the  Americans'  allies.  The  roads 
were  vile,  the  forests  on  either  side  impenetrable,  and 
through  all  was  a  tangle  of  swamps  and  creeks.  St. 
Clair  and  Schuyler,  retreating,  used  the  axe  and  the 
torch  to  make  the  way  of  pursuit  more  difficult.  Great 
trees  were  felled  across  the  roads;  the  streams,  where 
navigable,  were  blocked  by  stumps  and  boulders,  and 
bridges  were  burned  with  such  completeness  that  Bur- 
goyne had  forty  to  rebuild  in  making  a  thirty-mile 
march.  His  rate  of  progress  was  about  a  mile  a  day. 
The  settlers,  instead  of  flocking  to  him  with  protesta- 
tions of  loyalty,  drove  their  flocks  and  herds  to  places 
of  safety,  and  came  back  to  harass  his  flanks. 

One  incident,  inevitable  when  Indians  were  em- 
ployed in  war,  served  still  further  to  infuriate  the 
American  settlers.  Jennie  McRea,  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  a  Scotch  clergyman,  was  visiting  at  Fort 
Edward,  not  far  from  the  British  lines,  when  a  raid- 
ing party  of  Indians  burst  into  the  house  and  carried 
her  away  with  her  hostess,  a  Mrs.  McNeil.  What  hap- 
pened that  night  has  never  been  authoritatively  told, 
but  there  was  pursuit  and  attack  by  some  American 
soldiers  and  the  next  morning  Mrs.  McNeil  found  her 
way  alone  into  the  British  camp.  During  the  day,  a 
gigantic  savage  came  in  flaunting  a  scalp,  which  was 
at  once  recognized  by  its  long  black  tresses  as  that  of 


78  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  girl.  After  brief  search,  her  body  was  found 
pierced  with  three  bullet  wounds.  The  Wyandotte 
Panther,  as  the  chief  who  displayed  the  scalp  was 
called,  declared  she  had  been  shot  accidentally  in  the 
skirmish.  But  the  story  spread  that  the  Indians  se- 
cured rum,  got  drunk,  and  gave  their  savage  instincts 
full  rein,  finally  murdering  and  scalping  the  girl.  Em- 
broidered in  various  ways  the  story  spread  about  the 
country  and  was  told  as  indicative  of  the  barbarities 
that  followed  in  the  British  train.  Burgoyne,  a  kindly 
and  sympathetic  man,  in  horror  and  wrath  would  have 
hanged  the  Panther  but  that  his  officers  feared  the 
effect  of  such  action  upon  their  savage  allies.  So  he 
contented  himself  with  ordering  that  henceforth  no 
marauding  parties  of  Indians  should  leave  the  camp 
save  with  a  British  officer  in  command.  When  the 
redskins  comprehended  this  order,  they  sulked  for  a 
day  or  two,  then  stealing  all  they  could  lay  hands  on, 
sneaked  away  to  their  forest  fastnesses.  King  George 
had  lost  five  hundred  or  more  valuable  allies,  and  he 
had  stirred  up  some  thousands  of  "  embattled  farm- 
ers "  to  land  on  Burgoyne's  flank.  The  story  of 
Jennie  McRea  was  the  best  of  recruiting  arguments. 
Burgoyne  by  this  time  had  reached  Fort  Edward, 
on  the  headwaters  of  the  Hudson.  There  he  stopped. 
Food  was  running  low.  Instead  of  living  on  the  coun- 
try, the  irate  farmers  compelled  him  to  bring  his 
supplies  from  Canada.  Horses  to  drag  his  cannon 
were  lacking.  But  he  heard  that  the  rising  militia  of 
New  England  had  established  a  depot  of  supplies  at 
Bennington,  Vermont,  where  there  were  horses  and  food 
in  abundance.  So  he  sent  about  one  thousand  Hessians 
and  one  hundred  Indians,  under  command  of  Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Baum,  to  seize  the  plunder  and  inciden- 
tally to  discipline  the  rebels.  Baum  had  been  told  that 
a  friendly  country-side  would  turn  out  to  meet  him — it 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         79 

did,  but  after  the  fashion  in  which  wasps  turn  out  to 
greet  the  boy  who  disturbs  their  nest.  In  affright, 
Baum  intrenched  himself  at  Bennington,  to  await  the 
arrival  of  the  second  half  of  his  army,  which  was  fol- 
lowing under  Colonel  Breymann. 

By  good  fortune,  General  John  Stark,  of  Washing- 
ton's army,  a  veteran  of  Bunker  Hill,  Trenton,  and 
Princeton,  was  not  far  away  in  New  Hampshire.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  old  farmer  was  sulking  for,  like 
several  other  generals  who  really  fought — like  Bene- 
dict Arnold,  for  example — he  had  been  passed  over  by 
Congress  in  favor  of  generals  who  merely  intrigued. 
But  the  thought  of  a  British  force  so  near  his  own 
hearth  roused  the  warrior  spirit.  Hastily  rallying 
about  eight  hundred  armed  farmers,  and  swearing  that 
he  would  take  orders  neither  from  Congress  nor  any 
superior  officer,  he  set  off  to  find  the  foe.  At  Ben- 
nington, he  was  joined  by  nearly  two  hundred  "  Green 
Mountain  Boys,"  led  by  a  u  fighting  parson  " — not  an 
unusual  figure  among  the  Colonial  volunteers.  John 
Fiske  tells  the  story  of  the  meeting  thus : 

"  Mr.  Allen,  the  warlike  parson,  of  Pittsfield,  went 
up  to  Stark  and  said,  *  Colonel,  our  Berkshire  people 
have  been  often  called  out  to  no  purpose  and  if  you 
don't  let  them  fight  now  they  will  never  turn  out  again.' 
'Well,'  said  Stark,  'would  you  have  us  turn  out  now, 
while  it  is  pitch  dark  and  raining  bullets?  '  'No,  not 
just  this  minute,'  replied  the  minister.  '  Then ,'  said 
the  doughty  Stark,  '  as  soon  as  the  Lord  shall  once 
more  send  us  sunshine,  if  I  don't  give  you  fighting 
enough,  I'll  never  ask  you  to  come  out  again.'  " 

The  sunshine  came  with  the  morning.  It  found  Baum 
with  his  German  regulars,  posted  behind  breastworks  on 
the  crest  of  a  small  hill  beyond  the  shallow  stream. 
"  There  they  are,  men,"  cried  Stark,  pointing. 
"  They'll  be  ours  by  night  or  Molly  Stark  will  be  a 


80  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

widow."  The  New  Englanders  had  the  more  men — 
nearly  two  to  one — but  had  no  bayonets  or  side  arms, 
nor  any  cannon.  Baum  had  two  field  pieces.  To 
carry  breastworks  without  bayonets  against  a  well- 
equipped  force  was  unprecedented,  but  it  had  to  be 
done.  All  the  morning,  in  small  groups,  Stark's  men 
wandered  aimlessly  around  Baum's  flanks,  to  his  rear. 
They  excited  no  attention.  The  Germans,  accustomed 
to  European  fields,  were  looking  for  an  army  with 
drums  and  banners.  Their  own  leather  hats  and  cum- 
brous swords  weighed  more  than  the  whole  equipment 
of  a  British  soldier,  while  the  American  carried  noth- 
ing but  his  rifle,  bullet  pouch  and  powder  horn.  These 
simple  farmers,  in  cotton  jumpers  or  shirt-sleeves,  were 
probably  timid  Tories  seeking  a  spot  of  safety,  thought 
the  Germans.  But  at  a  signal,  the  shirt-sleeved  ones 
poured  in  a  fierce  rifle  fire  from  front,  rear  and  both 
flanks.  With  a  yell,  the  Indians  fled,  but  the  Ger- 
mans doggedly  closed  up  and  for  two  hours  the  fighting 
was  furious.  Protected  only  in  front  by  their  breast- 
works, the  Germans  fell  fast  before  a  fire  from  the 
rear.  At  last  the  Americans  charged,  meeting  bay- 
onets with  clubbed  muskets  and  after  a  murderous 
melee  in  which  Baum  fell,  mortally  wounded,  the  Brit- 
ish surrendered. 

It  was  none  too  soon,  for  just  at  this  juncture,  with 
his  own  men  tired  out  by  battle  and  demoralized  by 
victory,  Stark  saw  the  fresh  troops  of  Breymann  ap- 
proaching. For  a  moment  the  Americans  wavered 
but  just  then  General  Seth  Warner,  with  his  "  Green 
Mountain  Boys,"  arrived  and  the  second  German  force 
was  disposed  of,  like  the  first.  Breymann  fled,  with 
fifty  or  sixty  men,  and  carried  the  news  to  Burgoyne. 
It  was  not  cheerful  news  for  that  harassed  chieftain. 
Instead  of  a  Tory  country,  he  had  found  a  Patriot 
stronghold.    Instead  of  getting  fresh  horses  and  food, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         81 

he  had  lost  one  of  his  best  officers,  207  men  killed  or 
wounded,  700  captured,  1,000  stand  of  small  arms, 
1,000  dragoon  swords  and  four  field  pieces.  Fourteen 
Americans  were  killed  and  42  wounded. 

Disasters  now  began  to  come  fast  to  Burgoyne. 
Hardly  had  the  news  of  the  defeat  at  Bennington 
grown  old  when  there  came  the  tidings  from  central 
New  York  that  the  column,  which  was  advancing  to 
his  aid  by  way  of  the  Mohawk  Valley,  had  been  de- 
feated, and  had  fled  back  to  Lake  Ontario,  on  its  way 
to  Canada.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Colonel  St. 
Leger  with  several  regiments  had  been  assigned  to 
this  enterprise.  His  initial  force  was  small,  but  the 
Tories  were  strong  in  the  Mohawk  Valley,  where  Sir 
John  Johnson  ruled  like  an  English  feudal  baron  of 
the  olden  time.  It  was  thought  that  this  element 
would  greatly  strengthen  St.  Leger,  and  he  was,  in- 
deed, met  at  Oswego  by  Johnson,  with  his  famous 
Tory  regiment  called  the  Royal  Greens,  and  Colonel 
Butler,  with  his  company  of  Tory  rangers.  The  Mo- 
hawk Indians,  too,  under  the  influence  of  their  famous 
chief,  Joseph  Brant,  joined  him.  As  he  had,  besides 
regulars,  Hessian  Chasseurs,  Canadian  voyageurs,  and 
a  company  of  axemen,  his  force  was  decidedly  motley. 

Moving  out  from  Oswego  about  the  last  of  July 
with  some  1,700  men,  St.  Leger,  on  August  8, 
sat  himself  down  before  Fort  Stanwix  (sometimes 
called  Fort  Schuyler),  which  was  defended  by  about 
600  men  under  Colonel  Peter  Gainesvoort.  The 
fort  was  too  strong  to  be  carried  by  assault,  so 
St.  Leger  settled  down  to  a  siege.  It  proved  the  old 
story.  All  the  Americans  needed  was  time,  and  that 
the  British  generals  were  always  giving  them.  In 
this  instance,  time  was  afforded  for  the  Patriots  in 
the  valley,  who  hated  bitterly  their  Tory  neighbors 
for  their  assumption  of  superiority,  to  rise  and  organ- 


82  STORY  OF   OUR  ARMY 

ize.  This  they  did  to  the  number  of  some  eight 
hundred  under  General  Nicholas  Herkimer,  a  stout 
old  Patriot  over  60  years  of  age.  Leading  his  forces, 
unsuspected  by  the  British,  to  Oriskany,  within  eight 
miles  of  the  fort,  Herkimer  sent  forward  three  run- 
ners. The  garrison  was  apprised  of  his  approach 
and  told  to  fire  three  guns  when  the  scouts  arrived. 
They  were  then  to  fall  furiously  upon  the  enemy  in 
front,  while  Herkimer  would  attack  him  in  the  rear. 

The  plan  which  events  showed  would  have  fully 
succeeded  had  it  been  carried  out,  was  spoiled  by  hot- 
heads, untried  soldiers  in  Herkimer's  army.  The 
scouts  were  late  in  getting  to  the  fort,  and  though  all 
the  merit  of  the  strategy  hung  on  attacking  the  British 
simultaneously  in  front  and  rear,  the  younger  soldiers 
grew  restive  waiting  for  the  signal  guns  and  demanded 
that  he  lead  them  to  battle.  He  resisted  long,  but  at 
last  stirred  to  wrath  by  the  epithets,  "Tory"  and 
"  coward,"  he  gave  the  order  to  advance,  saying  bit- 
terly that  some  of  those  so  eager  to  fight  too  soon  would 
be  the  first  to  run  away. 

Meanwhile,  the  British  had  heard  of  the  American 
advance  and  dispatched  the  Royal  Greens  and  the 
Indians,  under  Brant,  to  meet  it.  The  cunning  chief 
at  once  planned  an  ambuscade  in  a  ravine,  into  which 
the  Americans  fell  headlong,  and  encountered  a  fire 
that  would  have  routed  them  had  they  not  been  trained 
bush  fighters.  The  fighting  was  bloody  and  desperate 
in  the  extreme.  Here  were  old  neighbors,  farmers 
whose  lands  abutted,  and  whose  children  went  to  the 
same  schools,  fighting  out  ancient  grudges  with  clubbed 
musket,  with  bayonets  and  with  knives.  There  was 
no  semblance  of  orderly  battle.  The  ravine  was  filled 
with  a  mob  of  maddened  men  intent  on  killing,  while 
the  more  cautious  Indians  hovered  in  the  background, 
slaying  when  the  risk  to  them  was  least.     Their  favor- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         83 

ite  method  was  to  watch  for  a  puff  of  smoke  from 
behind  some  tree,  then  rush  and  with  club  or  toma- 
hawk, dispatch  the  rifleman  before  he  could  reload. 
Early  in  the  action  Herkimer  received  a  fatal  wound 
but  sat  propped  against  a  beech  tree,  smoking  his  pipe 
and  directing  the  course  of  battle  so  far  as  the  soldiers, 
now  without  any  semblance  of  organization,  would 
heed  direction.  Even  nature  took  part  in  the  infernal 
din  and  a  furious  thunder-storm,  with  the  peals  of 
thunder,  the  roaring  of  the  wind,  and  the  splashing 
of  the  sheets  of  rain,  silenced  the  shrieks  of  the  sol- 
diers and  the  clatter  of  the  musketry. 

As  the  storm  died  away  the  noise  of  battle  was 
heard  coming  from  the  fort  five  miles  away.  Herki- 
mer knew  that  it  meant  the  sortie  had  been  made,  now 
that  his  men  were  too  weary  to  take  the  fullest  ad- 
vantage of  it.  The  British,  however,  were  perplexed, 
and  for  the  moment  relaxed  their  efforts.  The  In- 
dians, too,  were  startled  and  fearing  the  worst,  set 
up  their  weird  cry  of  retreat,  "OonahT  Oonah!" 
and  slipped  off  into  the  wilderness.  The  British  there- 
upon gave  up  the  fight  and  fled,  the  Americans  being 
too  exhausted  to  pursue  them. 

The  sortie,  meantime,  had  been  a  complete  success. 
Colonel  Willett,  who  had  led  it,  routed  Sir  John  John- 
son with  his  Tories  and  Indians,  and  looted  his  camp 
with  thoroughness.  Seven  wagons  were  three  times 
loaded  with  spoil  and  driven  into  the  fort,  while  the 
quantity  of  food  and  munitions  of  war  was  prodigious. 
Five  British  standards  were  captured  and  presently 
flung  to  the  breeze  above  the  ramparts  beneath  the 
first  American  flag  ever  displayed.  For  Congress  had 
just  approved  the  design  of  the  stars  and  stripes, 
though  no  flags  were  yet  available.  But  the  Ameri- 
cans in  Fort  Stanwix  made  one  out  of  a  white  shirt, 
a  soldier's  blue  jacket,  and  a  woman's  red  skirt,  and 


84  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

flung  it  out  high  above  the  five  humbled  British  en- 
signs. 

Though  it  neither  destroyed  the  British  army  nor 
raised  the  siege  of  Fort  Stanwix,  the  battle  of  Oriskany 
was  a  notable  American  victory,  and  that  the  Ameri- 
can flag  should  then  have  been  first  displayed — August 
6>  1777 — was  meet  and  right.  Had  Herkimer's  plan 
been  followed,  all  the  fruits  sought  by  his  attack  would 
have  been  gained,  and  perhaps  the  life  of  the  doughty 
old  soldier  spared,  for  he  died  bravely  the  day  after 
the  fight,  puffing  his  pipe,  reading  his  Bible,  and  se- 
renely conscious  of  having  done  his  duty. 

Some  days  later,  the  news  of  Oriskany  reached 
Schuyler,  with  an  appeal  for  aid  to  Fort  Stanwix. 
The  general,  though  himself  eager  to  send  a  relief 
expedition,  was  opposed  by  his  officers,  one  of  whom 
impudently  said,  "  He  only  wants  to  weaken  the  army." 
Schuyler's  wrath  was  roused.  "  Enough,"  he  cried, 
in  the  council,  "  I  take  all  the  responsibility.  What 
brigadier  will  take  command?  "  All  sat  in  sulky  si- 
lence until  Benedict  Arnold,  who  had  been  sent  thither 
by  Washington,  and  was  still  justifiably  aggrieved  over 
his  treatment  by  Congress,  jumped  up,  crying,  "  Here ! 
Washington  sent  me  here  to  make  myself  useful  and  I 
will  go." 

Next  morning  with  twelve  hundred  volunteers,  Arn- 
old set  forth.  He  won  his  end  practically  without  a 
battle,  for  capturing  on  his  way  some  Tory  scouts 
he  found  among  them  a  half-witted  fellow  called  Yam 
Yost  Cuyler  whom  the  Indians  regarded  with  the 
superstitious  awe  with  which  they  always  looked  on 
idiots  and  lunatics.  Yam  was  first  condemned  to 
death,  then,  when  sufficiently  scared,  was  promised 
pardon  if  he  would  spread  panic  in  the  British  camp. 
He  joyously  agreed  and  set  out.  Next  day  Johnson's 
Indians  began  telling  stories  of  advancing  Americans, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         85 

more  numerous  than  the  leaves  on  the  trees.  Then 
Yam  turned  up  in  St.  Leger's  camp,  his  coat  riddled 
with  bullets.  He  had  escaped  miraculously,  he  said, 
from  an  overpowering  American  host.  He  was 
known  as  a  Tory  and  Johnson's  men  believed  his  re- 
port. They  began  to  desert,  while  the  Indians  broke 
open  the  stores  and  regaling  themselves  too  freely  with 
rum  began  to  attack  the  whites.  Suddenly,  panic  fell 
upon  the  whole  camp.  So  great  was  the  demoraliza- 
tion that  St.  Leger  and  Johnson  fell  into  a  fierce  quar- 
rel, drew  their  swords  and  were  only  stopped  from 
mortal  combat  by  the  interposition  of  Indians.  The 
red  men  found  something  humorous  in  the  British 
panic.  When  the  fugitives  were  resting  an  Indian 
would  come  dashing  up  crying,  "They  are  coming! 
They  are  coming  P'  and  the  poor,  harried  soldiers 
would  take  up  the  flight  again.  The  whole  army 
fled,  leaving  tents,  artillery,  and  stores  behind.  Mar- 
velling much  at  this  precipitate  retreat,  for  which  they 
knew  no  reason,  the  garrison  sallied  forth  in  pursuit, 
but  went  a  little  way  only.  The  Indians  were  more 
pertinacious.  One  scalp  was  as  good  as  another  to 
them,  and  they  pursued  the  hapless  troops  of  St.  Leger 
even  to  the  doors  of  Oswego,  where  what  was  left  of 
the  British  force  took  boat  back  to  Montreal. 

Burgoyne,  facing  starvation  at  Fort  Edward,  had 
hardly  digested  the  news  of  Stark's  victory  at  Benning- 
ton, when  the  tidings  came  to  him  of  the  complete 
obliteration  of  St.  Leger's  force.  His  army  was  fast 
dwindling;  the  American  forces  found  hundreds  of 
new  recruits  after  each  new  success.  At  no  time  did 
the  British  camp  have  provisions  for  more  than  two 
days  ahead.  No  word  came  from  Howe,  who,  Bur- 
goyne supposed  was  advancing  by  the  Hudson  to  join 
him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Howe  had  gone  south  to 
take  Philadelphia,  but  had  sent  Sir  Henry  Clinton  up 


86  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  Hudson  with  a  small  force.  It  is  enough  to  say 
here  that  Clinton  swept  the  Hudson  clear  of  impedi- 
ments, broke  the  great  chain  that  stretched  across  the 
river  at  the  Highlands  and  captured  the  American 
forts  established  to  guard  it.  He  ultimately  reached 
Albany,  but  not  in  time  to  be  of  service  to  Burgoyne. 
That  officer  for  his  part  would  have  been  fully  justi- 
fied in  beginning  a  retreat  to  Canada,  but  being  a  gal- 
lant soldier  decided  to  risk  all.  "The  expedition 
which  I  commanded,"  he  wrote,  "  was  at  first  evidently 
intended  to  be  hazarded;  circumstances  might  require 
it  should  be  devoted." 

Accordingly,  Burgoyne  threw  a  bridge  of  boats 
across  the  Hudson  and  crossed  with  his  army  on  Sep- 
tember 1 8.  That  very  day,  far  in  his  rear,  an  Ameri- 
can force  fell  on  the  outposts  at  Ticonderoga,  captured 
them  with  three  hundred  British  soldiers  and  released 
one  hundred  American  captives.  The  road  to  Canada 
was  being  blocked  behind  him;  his  way  south  was 
barred  by  the  American  army,  now  under  General 
Horatio  Gates,  with  whom  Congress  had  supplanted 
Schuyler. 

This  is  no  place  to  discuss  the  blunders  made  by 
Congress  when  it  sought  to  remove  and  appoint  gen- 
erals. A  whole  volume  would  not  be  too  long  for 
such  a  discussion.  Political  generals,  intriguers,  spec- 
tacular self-advertisers,  always  appealed  to  Congress. 
Gates  was  a  compound  of  all  three.  He  was  a  fit  as- 
sociate for  Charles  Lee,  with  whom  he  had  held  a 
correspondence  closely  verging  on  the  treasonable. 
Washington  trusted  Schuyler  and  distrusted  Gates — 
Congress  degraded  the  one  and  exalted  the  other. 
Congress  nearly  drove  John  Stark  out  of  the  army,  and 
treated  Arnold  with  such  gross  injustice  as  to  palliate, 
though  not  excuse,  his  later  treason.  It  would  be  well 
to-day  when  passion  has  somewhat  died  down,  if  our 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         87 

children  could  be  taught  that  Benedict  Arnold  was  a 
martyr  long  before  he  was  a  traitor. 

But  to  return  to  Burgoyne.  Scarcely  had  he  crossed 
the  river,  when  he  found  himself  confronted  by  the 
Americans  who  occupied  strong  works  on  Bemis 
Heights — works  which  had  been  skilfully  laid  out  by 
the  Pole,  Kosciusko,  who,  denied  liberty  in  his  own 
country,  had  come  to  fight  for  it  here.  After  recon- 
noitring Burgoyne  concluded  that  Gates's  position  could 
be  carried  by  a  strong  attack,  and  he  began  his  dis- 
positions with  this  end  in  view.  Early  in  the  morning 
of  the  19th,  his  troops  began  to  move.  Then  was 
shown  the  folly  of  brilliant  uniforms,  which  not  until 
the  last  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  did  nations  abandon 
for  troops  in  active  service.  The  patches  of  bright 
scarlet  moving  through  the  green  forest  quickly  caught 
the  eyes  of  the  American  scouts,  and  Burgoyne's  stategy 
was  unmasked  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  begun.  Arnold 
was  informed  first  of  the  movement  and  sent  mes- 
sengers to  Gates  for  permission  to  attack.  Gates  hesi- 
tated. He  hated  Arnold,  and  moreover,  was  sedulous 
in  his  efforts  to  prevent  any  of  his  generals  from 
achieving  any  reputation  for  themselves.  At  last,  he 
gave  a  grudging  permission,  and  Arnold,  with  his  usual 
fiery  dash,  fell  upon  Burgoyne's  advance  in  the  midst 
of  an  abandoned  clearing  called  Freeman's  Farm. 
Both  sides  fought  in  the  open,  the  Americans  having 
few  bayonets  and  no  artillery.  Yet  they  repeatedly 
captured  the  British  guns,  but  were  unable  to  hold  them 
and  had  unhappily  no  appliances  for  spiking  them.  In 
the  end  Arnold  pierced  Burgoyne's  line,  and  sent  an 
earnest  appeal  to  Gates  for  reinforcements,  which  ap- 
peal was  ignored.  It  became  evident  later  that,  had 
the  fresh  troops  been  sent,  Burgoyne's  army  would  have 
been  ended  then  and  there.  But  that  would  have  given 
Arnold  high  reputation,  which  was  the  last  thing  Gates 


88  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

desired.  Indeed,  the  commanding  general  in  his  final 
report  made  no  mention  of  Arnold  at  all,  though  Bur- 
goyne,  in  his  testimony  before  the  House  of  Commons, 
frankly  admitted  that  his  whole  plan  of  attack  had 
been  defeated  by  the  activity  and  dash  of  "  Mr." 
Arnold. 

The  battle  of  Freeman's  Farm  was  essentially  a 
draw,  though  the  British  held  the  field.  The  losses, 
however,  told  heavily  against  the  enemy,  and  had  not 
Gates  kept  eleven  thousand  men  idly  watching  the  fray 
from  Bemis  Heights,  the  Burgoyne  expedition  would 
then  have  been  ended.  Though  he  kept  Arnold's  name 
out  of  the  official  dispatches,  Gates  could  not  keep  it 
off  the  tongues  of  the  soldiers  who  were  tireless  in 
sounding  the  praises  of  this  general  who  fought.  Ac- 
cordingly, instead  of  proceeding  at  once  to  crush  Bur- 
goyne, Gates  set  himself  to  crush  Arnold  by  all  sorts  of 
tyranny  and  injustice.  He  practically  deprived  Arnold 
of  all  command,  ignored  him  as  though  he  were  the 
cheapest  of  camp  followers,  and  even  told  him  he 
might  quit  the  army  and  return  to  Washington's  camp 
if  he  chose.  In  white  wrath  Arnold  declared  he  would 
go,  but  after  a  moment  his  loyalty  to  Washington  as- 
serted itself,  and  he  swore  doggedly  that  he  would  stay 
where  the  commander-in-chief  had  sent  him. 

For  a  time  the  two  armies  rested  in  their  lines ;  Gates's 
force  growing  steadily;  Burgoyne's  case  growing  daily 
more  desperate.  No  word  came  from  Clinton.  That 
officer  had  indeed  dispatched  a  messenger  with  a  brief 
note  of  encouragement  enclosed  in  a  hollow  silver  bullet. 
American  scouts  captured  the  messenger,  who  was  seen 
to  swallow  something.  An  emetic  was  applied,  the 
bullet  was  disgorged,  the  note  was  read,  the  messenger 
hanged  to  an  apple  tree,  and  Burgoyne  was  left  in 
ignorance  of  the  advance  of  his  supporting  force. 

So  he  determined  to  attack  Gates  again,  and  with 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         89 

1,500  picked  men  under  his  best  commanders,  made 
the  effort  on  October  7.  His  line  was  hardly  in  motion 
when  it  was  struck  on  the  flank  by  Morgan's  riflemen, 
while  an  overwhelming  force  attacked  in  front.  Car- 
ried away  by  this  superior  force,  the  British  lines  broke. 
Arnold — destitute  of  any  command — watching  from 
the  Heights,  saw  that  the  moment  was  ripe  for  a  deci- 
sive stroke.  He  leaped  to  his  saddle  and  dashed  down 
among  the  Americans,  who  recognized  and  cheered  him 
lustily. 

"  Call  back  that  fellow !"  cried  Gates,  as  Arnold 
galloped  toward  the  place  of  battle,  "  or  he  will  be 
doing  something  rash." 

It  was  time  for  something  rash,  and  Arnold  did  it. 
Rallying  the  Americans  he  attacked  in  turn  General 
Fraser,  who  fell  mortally  wounded;  the  Canadians, 
who  fled;  Lord  Balcanas,  who  occupied  intrenchments 
too  strong  to  be  taken,  and  Breymann,  who  was  slain 
and  his  force  of  Hessians  routed.  The  battle  was  won 
while  Gates  rested  idly  in  his  tent,  discussing  the  politi- 
cal reasons  for  the  Revolution  with  a  wounded  British 
officer.  Burgoyne  was  forced  back  to  his  fortified  camp 
whence  he  could  not  be  dislodged.  Arnold,  in  one  of 
his  fierce  attacks,  was  badly  wounded  by  a  shot  fired  by 
a  wounded  Hessian  lying  on  the  ground.  As  Arnold 
fell,  an  American  rushed  up  and  was  about  to  bayonet 
the  German,  when  the  general  cried  out,  "  For  God's 
sake,  don't  hurt  him;  he's  a  fine  fellow."  The  hand 
of  the  avenger  was  stayed. 

There  was  nothing  for  Burgoyne  to  do  but  to  retreat, 
which  he  did  the  next  day.  During  the  night  the  body 
of  General  Fraser  was  buried,  and  the  American  shot 
and  shell  whistled  through  the  air  above  the  mourners. 
The  Baroness  Riedesel,  who  had  spent  the  day  of  the 
battle  in  a  house  near  the  field,  tells  of  the  circumstances 
attending    the    general's    death:     "The    noise    grew 


9o  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

dreadful,  upon  which  I  was  more  dead  than  alive. 
About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  instead  of  guests 
whom  I  expected  to  dine  with  me,  I  saw  one  of  them, 
poor  General  Fraser,  brought  in  on  a  hand-barrow, 
mortally  wounded.  The  table,  which  was  already  pre- 
pared for  dinner,  was  immediately  removed  and  a  bed 
placed  in  its  stead  for  the  General.  I  sat  terrified  and 
trembling  in  a  corner.  The  noise  grew  more  alarming, 
and  I  was  in  a  continual  agony  and  tremor  while  think- 
ing that  my  husband  might  soon  be  brought  in  wounded 
like  General  Fraser.  ...  I  heard  often  amid  his 
groans  such  words  as  these,  *  Oh  bad  ambition !  Poor 
General  Burgoyne !     Poor  Mistress  Fraser !  I  V 

The  retreat  took  the  British  only  to  the  village  of 
Saratoga,  where  it  was  found  that  every  bridge,  ford, 
and  pass  leading  to  ultimate  safety  was  heavily  guarded 
by  Americans.  The  British  camp  was  wholly  sur- 
rounded, and  exposed  to  a  galling  fire  on  every  side. 
The  cellar  of  a  large  house  was  used  as  a  retreat  for 
some  women  and  children,  with  a  few  of  the  wounded. 
With  little  food  or  water,  and  the  American  rifle  bul- 
lets and  cannon  balls  crashing  through  the  house  over- 
head, their  sufferings  were  indescribable.  Though  the 
river  was  near,  every  man  who  ventured  out  with  a 
bucket  for  water,  was  picked  off  by  sharpshooters.  At 
last  a  woman  went  out  and  the  American  riflemen, 
respecting  her  sex,  the  thirst  of  the  prisoners  was 
assuaged. 

By  this  time,  surrender  was  obviously  the  one  re- 
course for  Burgoyne.  His  provisions  were  low,  and 
his  commissaries  reported  pathetically  that  for  days 
they  had  neither  rum  nor  spruce  beer.  At  first  Gates 
would  listen  to  nothing  but  unconditional  surrender, 
but  a  rumor  reached  him  that  Clinton  was  near  with 
heavy  reinforcements  for  the  British,  and  he  moderated 
his  demands.     Burgoyne  heard  the  same  rumor,  and 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         91 

for  a  time,  was  inclined  to  withdraw  from  the  conven- 
tion, but  in  the  end  agreed  to  surrender,  being  granted 
all  the  honors  of  war,  his  officers  to  retain  their  side- 
arms,  and  his  army  to  be  sent  back  to  England  by  way 
of  Boston. 

The  first  part  of  this  programme  was  carried  out 
October  17,  1777.  In  a  meadow  by  the  riverside,  the 
British  laid  down  their  arms  in  the  presence  of  the 
American  army.  Speaking  of  the  demeanor  of  the 
victors,  a  captured  lieutenant  said,  "  I  did  not  observe 
the  least  disrespect,  or  even  a  taunting  look,  but  all  was 
mute  astonishment  and  pity."  But  because  of  most 
dishonorable  delay  and  indecision  on  the  part  of  Con- 
gress, the  agreement  to  send  home  the  captured  army 
was  never  fulfilled.  The  soldiers  were  moved  from 
point  to  point,  being  finally  established  in  a  village  built 
for  them  near  Charlottesville,  Virginia.  Many  escaped 
with  the  connivance  of  their  guards,  but  most  settled 
down  permanently  and  were  finally  fused  in  the  great 
melting  pot  of  American  citizenship. 

Burgoyne  had  done  his  best,  but  the  task  confronting 
him  was  one  no  one  could  have  performed  without  the 
active  aid  of  Howe.  After  his  return  to  England,  the 
general  entered  Parliament,  where  he  became  known 
as  one  of  the  defenders  of  the  Americans  on  the  floor 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  Perhaps  the  harshest 
criticism  of  him  was  expressed  by  Baroness  Riedesel, 
who  travelled  with  his  army.     She  wrote : 

"  It  is  very  true  that  General  Burgoyne  liked  to 
make  himself  easy,  and  that  he  spent  half  his  nights  in 
singing,  drinking,  and  diverting  himself  with  the  wife 
of  a  commissary  who  was  his  mistress,  and  who  was 
as  fond  of  champagne  as  himself." 


CHAPTER  V 

Howe  Moves  to  Philadelphia — Washington's  Defence  of  that  City— 
Battles  of  the  Brandywine  and  Germantown— Battle  of  Fort 
Mifflin — The  Winter  at  Valley  Forge — Clinton's  Retreat. 

While  Burgoyne  was  thus  moving  onward  to  his  own 
downfall  in  northern  New  York,  Washington  and 
Howe  were  confronting  each  other  in  New  Jersey  and 
Pennsylvania.  But  the  real  interest  of  the  campaign 
of  1777  centers  about  the  events  related  in  the  last 
chapter.  Howe,  who  had  troops  enough  to  have 
crushed  Washington,  outdid  his  own  record  for  delay, 
and  while  the  winter  of  1776  was  spent  by  the  Ameri- 
cans in  reorganizing  and  strengthening  the  army,  the 
summer  or  campaigning  months  were  consumed  by 
both  armies  in  futile  marches  and  counter-marches  with 
indecisive  or  unimportant  battles.  The  only  book  of 
strategy  from  which  Howe  could  have  drawn  his  plan 
of  campaign  must  have  been  that  of  the  King  of  France, 
who: 

"  *    *    *    with  fifty  thousand  men 
Marched  up  a  hill,  and  then  marched  down  again." 

When  Washington  went  into  winter  quarters  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Morristown,  N.  J.,  in  December, 
1776,  his  army  was  at  low  ebb.  Though  Congress  had 
vested  him  with  dictatorial  powers,  and  authorized  the 
increase  of  the  army  to  sixty-six  thousand  men,  enlist- 
ments were  slow  and  March  14,  1777,  the  general  re- 
ported to  Congress  that  he  had  but  three  thousand 
men  fit  for  duty.  That  was  the  time  for  Howe  to 
strike,  with  the  eighteen  thousand  men  he  had  under 
arms.     It  is  said  that  the  adjutant  of  the  American 

92 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         93 

army  had  false  rolls  prepared  showing  twelve  thousand 
men  under  arms  and  gave  a  British  spy  an  opportunity 
to  see  them,  and  that  Howe  was  affected  by  the  report. 
At  any  rate  he  did  nothing  but  march  into  New  Jersey 
and  out  again,  enjoying  what  the  British  called  "  two 
weeks'  fooling  "  in  that  state.  The  fooling  was  seri- 
ous for  the  settlers,  for  the  Hessians  pillaged  right  and 
left,  and  British  officers  when  appealed  to  merely  ob- 
served that  that  was  the  German  way  of  making  war. 
It  was  not  a  popular  way  with  the  settlers,  and  they 
resented  it  by  enlisting  in  the  Patriot  army.  Before 
spring  Washington  had  more  than  eight  thousand  men. 
At  this  time  needed  help  came  from  France  in  the  shape 
of  2,300  muskets,  1,000  barrels  of  powder,  and  shoes 
for  25,000  men.  These  munitions  were  collected  and 
sent  by  Beaumarchais,  the  French  wit  and  watchmaker. 
Congress  manifested  its  gratitude  to  the  patriotic  play- 
wright by  not  paying  his  bill  until  1835 — l°ng  a^ter 
his  death — and  then  paying  only  one-fourth  of  it. 

One  of  the  munitions  of  war  continually  arriving 
from  France,  and  as  a  rule  not  greatly  valued,  was  the 
French  officer.  Usually  according  to  his  own  account 
he  was  a  nobleman,  and  must,  therefore,  have  a  high 
commission.  He  was  accustomed  to  luxury  and  must, 
therefore,  be  well  paid  and  lavishly  equipped.  His 
professed  long  experience  in  war  was  supposed  to  make 
amends  for  his  ignorance  of  the  English  language,  so 
that  he  could  neither  receive  commands  understand- 
ing^ nor  deliver  them  intelligibly.  A  type  of  this 
international  charlatan  was  one  Ducoudray,  who  turned 
up  with  a  contract  signed  by  the  American  agent  in 
Paris,  Silas  Deane.  By  virtue  of  this,  he  claimed  rank 
as  a  major-general  and  commander-in-chief  of  the 
American  artillery  and  engineers.  He  dazed  Wash- 
ington with  the  tidings  that  one  hundred  of  his  old 
companions-in-arms  would  presently  arrive  from  France 


94  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

to  act  as  his  personal  staff — with  pay!  After  much 
wrangling  with  Congress,  the  Ducoudray  case  was  set- 
tled by  that  officer's  horse,  which  becoming  fractious, 
leaped  from  a  ferry-boat  into  the  Schuylkill  and 
drowned  his  rider. 

Not  all  the  foreign  soldiers  who  came  to  our  aid 
were  of  this  type.  The  United  States  rejoices  to  honor 
the  names  of  DeKalb,  Von  Steuben,  Kosciusko,  Pulaski, 
and  above  all,  Lafayette.  The  last  named  was,  in  fact, 
an  aristocrat  by  birth,  his  wife  a  daughter  of  the  Due 
d'Ayen;  himself  a  frequenter  of  the  court  of  Louis 
XVI  and,  with  his  wife,  an  intimate  of  Marie  An- 
toinette. He  was,  however,  a  sturdy  republican,  defied 
the  prohibition  of  the  French  court,  and  out  of  his 
private  means  purchased  a  vessel  and  made  his  way  to 
the  shores  of  America.  He  offered  his  services  as  a 
volunteer,  and  though  coldly  received  by  Congress,  was 
finally  commissioned  a  major-general  without  pay. 
Washington  quickly  perceived  the  nobility  of  his 
character;  he,  for  his  part,  made  Washington  his  hero 
and  his  model,  until  in  the  end  their  relations  were 
those  of  father  and  son. 

It  was,  of  course,  General  Howe's  business  to  ascend 
the  Hudson  and  aid  Burgoyne.  That  he  did  not  do  so 
was  the  wonderment  of  Washington,  who,  more  than 
once  suspecting  a  ruse,  made  his  dispositions  to  contest 
the  Hudson  with  the  British.  An  old  bush-fighter  him- 
self, Washington  knew  that  Burgoyne  could  not  make 
his  way  through  the  woods  of  northern  New  York 
alone.  Even  when  Howe,  with  228  sail,  took  his 
eighteen  thousand  men  out  to  sea  through  the  Nar- 
rows, seemingly  bent  on  proceeding  against  Philadel- 
phia, Washington  was  skeptical.  "  I  can  not  help  cast- 
ing my  eyes  behind  me,"  he  wrote.  Howe  wrote  a 
note  to  Burgoyne,  saying  that  he  had  gone  with  his 
troops  to  Boston  and  would  march  thence  to  the  Hud- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         95 

son,  and  contrived  to  have  the  note  fall  into  Washing- 
ton's hands.  But  the  "  Old  Fox,"  as  Cornwallis  called 
him,  was  not  fooled.  He  at  once  concluded  that  Howe 
had  gone  to  attack  Philadelphia,  which  was  in  fact  the 
case. 

Just  why  Howe  attached  so  much  importance  to 
Philadelphia,  a  study  of  the  military  conditions  of  the 
time  does  not  explain.  It  was  temporarily,  at  least, 
"the  rebel  capital,"  but  that  capital  was  as  peripatetic 
as  a  circus,  being  established  wherever  the  Congress 
thought  it  could  sit  without  danger.  Perhaps  he  was 
influenced  by  the  u  plan  of  campaign  "  prepared  for  his 
guidance  by  his  precious  captive,  Charles  Lee,  in  which 
great  stress  was  laid  upon  the  wisdom  of  taking  Phila- 
delphia. More  probable  it  is,  that  Sir  William,  who 
was  a  valiant  trencherman,  an  habitue  of  London  clubs, 
thought  it  pleasanter  to  have  a  city  to  winter  in,  than 
to  shiver  in  the  tented  field.  Boston  had  sheltered  him 
the  first  winter;  New  York,  the  second,  and  he  now 
forehandedly  looked  forward  to  Philadelphia. 

There  was  perhaps  as  little  reason  why  Washington 
should  oppose  his  taking  the  city  as  there  was  for  Howe 
to  seek  it.  To  begin  with  he  could  not  have  barred 
Howe's  entrance  had  he  desired,  for  the  general's 
brother,  Admiral  Howe,  was  there  with  a  fleet  ready  to 
sweep  aside  the  flimsy  defences  of  the  Chesapeake  and 
take  the  city  by  water,  even  if  there  should  be  difficulty 
in  taking  it  by  land.  For  that  matter,  even  if  Wash- 
ington took  the  city  himself,  he  would  not  be  able  to 
hold  it  with  the  fleet  at  its  very  water-front.  But  the 
American  commander  felt  that  the  temper  of  the  people 
made  some  sort  of  a  movement  of  the  American  troops 
necessary.  He  had  not  yet  heard  of  the  destruction  of 
Burgoyne  in  the  north,  and  when  the  news  came  the 
people  began  to  decry  Washington  and  exalt  Gates — 
of  whom  all  that  can  be  said  is,  that  he  did  not  prevent 


96  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

his  division  commanders  from  winning  battles  for  him, 
though  he  was  careful  to  take  all  the  credit  for  victory 
to  himself. 

Because  of  these  various  considerations,  more  politi- 
cal than  military,  Washington,  as  soon  as  he  was  con- 
vinced that  Howe's  objective  was  Philadelphia,  began 
moving  the  Continental  army  thither.  By  way  of  en- 
couraging the  Patriots,  and  overawing  the  Tory  resi- 
dents of  that  town,  he  marched  his  entire  army,  at  that 
time  numbering  about  eleven  thousand  men,  through  its 
streets.  The  effect  may  be  doubted.  The  Americans 
were  sorely  tattered,  armed  as  variously  as  Falstaff's 
"  Rogues  in  buckram,''  and  for  lack  of  distinguishing 
uniform,  were  constrained  to  wear  a  sprig  of  green  in 
their  hats  by  way  of  cockade.  However  ill-clad  and 
equipped  the  Continentals  might  be,  however,  they  were 
abundantly  ready  for  battle,  and  after  passing  through 
Philadelphia  took  up  a  position  south  of  Wilmington, 
Delaware,  to  await  the  unfolding  of  Howe's  plans. 
This  was  not  quick  in  coming.  Howe  was  not  swift  in 
action  and  gave  no  heed  to  the  doctrine  that  the  highest 
strategy  was  "  to  get  there  first  with  the  most  men."  He 
had  idled  about  New  York  for  six  weeks,  while  poor 
Burgoyne's  army  was  crumbling  in  the  northern  woods. 
After  he  had  made  his  way  into  the  Delaware  River, 
he  hesitated  a  time,  then  put  his  ships  about  and  after 
a  twenty-four  days'  voyage  landed  his  weary  army  at 
Elkton,  just  thirteen  miles  from  the  point  he  had  at- 
tained on  the  Delaware.  Washington  was  puzzled  by 
his  disappearance  from  the  Delaware  and  concluded 
that  he  had  gone  south  to  capture  Charleston.  The 
fleet  was  discovered  just  in  time  to  prevent  the  Ameri- 
can army  from  returning  to  New  York  to  contest  with 
Clinton  the  control  of  the  Hudson. 

Howe's  voyage  had  been  perilous  and  tiring  as  well 
as  needless.   He  had  exposed  to  the  perils  of  a  voyage 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS         97 

of  350  miles  nearly  230  vessels  with  their  ships'  com- 
panies and  eighteen  thousand  troops.  Almost 
universally  the  men  were  seasick,  and  the  weather,  when 
not  tempestuous,  was  torrid.  The  crowded  'tween 
decks  of  the  ships  was  fetid — almost  as  bad  as  the 
hold  of  a  West  Indian  slaver.  Water  ran  low,  hun- 
dreds of  horses  were  thrown  overboard  as  a  more 
humane  action  than  letting  them  die  of  thirst.  As  the 
fleet  edged  its  slow  way  along,  row-boats  plied  between 
the  vessels  begging  a  keg  of  water  here  and  there,  or 
a  few  provisions.  After  eight  and  twenty  days  of  this 
sort  of  progress  Howe  disembarked  his  troops,  having 
made  just  thirteen  miles  by  the  voyage.  And  far  away 
in  the  forests  of  northern  New  York  poor  Burgoyne 
was  hoping  that  this  very  body  of  men  was  coming 
swiftly  up  the  Hudson  to  save  him  from  total  destruc- 
tion. 

Having  disembarked  his  forces,  Howe  rested 
on  his  arms  another  week.  Washington,  meantime, 
took  up  a  position  at  Chadd's  Ford  on  the  Brandywine, 
twenty-six  miles  from  Philadelphia.  In  his  immediate 
front  the  creek  was  placid  and  shallow,  but  at  the  point 
where  the  American  left  rested,  it  was  a  brawling  stream 
flowing  through  a  rocky  gorge.  The  right  flank  was 
less  well  protected.  It  rested  on  the  river  two  miles 
farther  up,  and  it  was  thought,  incorrectly,  that  there 
were  no  fords  in  the  vicinity.  Washington  had  about 
eleven  thousand  men;  Howe,  about  eighteen  thousand. 

After  reconnoitring  the  position,  Howe  decided  to 
attack  it  by  the  left  flank.  He  was  much  given  to 
flank  attacks,  and  had  routed  the  Americafi  army  at 
Long  Island  by  this  simple  and  popular  device.  The 
flank  was  defended  by  General  Sullivan  who,  though 
a  gallant  soldier  and  desperate  fighter,  was  not  fortu- 
nate in  the  defence  of  flanks.  It  was  he  whom  Howe 
had  crumpled  up  at  Long  Island.     Now  he  was  igno- 


98  STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

rant  of  the  existence  of  two  fords  above  him,  and 
worse  than  that,  when  Washington  was  about  to  act  on 
knowledge  of  the  flanking  movement,  sent  him  word 
that  there  were  no  British  on  the  left.  The  message 
had  hardly  been  delivered  when  Cornwallis  fell  upon 
Sullivan  and  rolled  his  lines  away. 

Washington  had  determined  to  meet  the  flank  move- 
ment of  Cornwallis  by  crossing  the  ford  in  his  front 
and  attacking  Knyphausen,  who  commanded  the  British 
centre.  It  is  obvious  strategy  when  your  enemy  has 
marched  away  with  the  greater  part  of  his  army  to 
attack  the  weakened  division  he  left  behind.  Had 
Washington  adhered  to  his  purpose  his  chances  of  vic- 
tory would  have  been  good,  for  the  Americans  were 
not  seriously  outnumbered  by  the  enemy  in  their  front. 
Unfortunately,  just  as  Washington  was  about  to  move, 
the  incorrect  information  was  received  from  Sullivan. 
Washington  stopped  in  perplexity.  If  Howe  had  not 
detached  any  part  of  his  force  for  an  attack  in  flank, 
then  the  enemy  in  front  must  be  too  strong  for  him. 
While  he  hesitated,  the  clatter  of  musketry  to  his  left 
gave  tidings  that  Sullivan  had  erred.  Lafayette  was 
hurried  forward  to  aid  the  stricken  flank,  and  was 
promptly  wounded.  General  Greene  followed  him, 
and  then  Washington,  though  Knyphausen  was  attack- 
ing him  in  front,  made  for  the  place  of  greatest  danger. 
Not  knowing  the  quickest  way  he  pressed  an  old  farmer, 
named  Brown,  into  service  as  guide.  Mounted  on  a 
cavalry  charger,  which  took  the  fences  as  he  encoun- 
tered them,  Brown  though  expostulating  loudly  still 
led  the  general  straight.  He  had  no  chance  to  escape, 
for  Washington  kept  the  nose  of  his  own  horse  close  to 
the  terrified  farmer's  knee  and  rode  hard,  crying  con- 
tinually, "Push  along,  old  man!     Push  along!" 

The  defeat  of  the  Patriot  army  was  complete.  That 
it  was  not  a  disastrous  rout  was  due  to  the  celerity  with 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS        99 

which  Greene  and  his  Virginians  secured  a  strong  posi- 
tion in  front  of  Cornwallis,  and  the  stubbornness  with 
which  he  held  it  until  darkness  put  an  end  to  the  battle. 
Sullivan,  to  whose  earlier  error  was  doubtless  due  the 
disaster  of  the  day,  fought  like  a  lion  throughout  the 
action — a  fact  that  was  much  to  his  advantage  when 
the  inquiry  into  the  battle  was  subsequently  held.  The 
valor  of  these  generals  and  Washington's  cool  strategy, 
which  never  failed  in  the  darkest  hours,  saved  the  army, 
which  in  the  end  got  away  in  fairly  good  order  to 
Chester.  But  the  British  held  the  field;  while  their  loss 
had  been  nearly  600,  the  Americans  lost  more  than 
1,000  including  prisoners,  and  the  road  to  Philadelphia 
was  wide  open  to  the  British  column. 

As  usual  Howe  hesitated  to  follow  up  his  advantage. 
He  had  eighteen  thousand  men  to  Washington's  nine 
thousand,  and  it  would  have  seemed  could  have  annihil- 
ated the  American  army  and  ended  the  war.  Yet  it 
was  Washington  who  first  prepared  to  renew  hostil- 
ities, but  was  balked  by  a  fierce  rainstorm  which  de- 
stroyed the  ammunition  of  his  army  and  made  the  mus- 
kets useless.  Accordingly,  he  retired  again,  General 
Howe  being  savagely  criticised  for  his  escape.  "  We 
are  told,"  said  the  British  critics,  u  that  the  Americans 
have  no  bayonets,  but  greatly  excel  our  soldiers  in 
marksmanship.  Here  they  were  with  useless  guns,  no 
means  of  defence,  and  General  Howe  still  permits  them 
to  escape." 

Escape  they  did,  General  Wayne  being  left  behind 
as  a  rear  guard,  with  instructions  to  cut  off  Howe's  bag- 
gage trains.  This  officer  was  popularly  known  as 
"  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne,  because  of  his  zest  for  bat- 
tle, but  this  time  he  had  his  fill  of  the  business  of 
slaughter.  His  troops,  about  1,500  in  all,  were  en- 
camped about  a  tavern  at  Paoli  and,  the  night  being 
wet,  had  been  directed  to  wrap  their  overcoats  about 


ioo         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

their  cartridges.  While  thus  encumbered  they  were 
fiercely  assaulted  by  General  Grey.  This  British  offi- 
cer shared  his  people's  fondness  for  the  bayonet,  and 
had  forced  his  troops  to  unload  their  muskets  and  even 
remove  the  flints,  so  that  no  untimely  discharge  should 
arouse  the  Americans.  Charging  with  cold  steel,  they 
carried  all  before  them,  but  Wayne,  fighting  with  gal- 
lantry, managed  to  save  his  artillery  but  lost  some 
three  hundred  men.  About  sixty  of  these  were  killed 
outright,  and  so  large  a  percentage  of  fatalities  caused 
the  affair  to  be  known  as  the  "  Paoli  massacre,"  while 
Grey,  who  seems  indeed  to  have  been  an  honest  soldier 
and  gentleman,  gained  the  nickname  of  "  the  prisoner 
killer." 

Howe  was  now  approaching  Philadelphia  near-by, 
and  it  was  apparent  that  Washington  could  not  prevent 
his  capture  of  the  city.  There  was  panic  among  the 
citizens  who  had  been  loyal  to  the  American  cause  and 
who  had  heard  with  horror  of  the  treatment  of  private 
property  by  the  Hessians.  Congress,  of  course,  fled 
precipitately  and  was  followed  by  hundreds  of  citizens, 
who  felt  that  their  wealth  or  their  activity  in  the  Pa- 
triot cause  had  marked  them  for  persecution.  The  town- 
crier  went  about  the  streets  ringing  his  bell  and  calling 
upon  every  man  who  could  carry  a  gun  to  join  in  muster 
at  the  common — a  very  futile  command,  for  none  ap- 
peared. Instead  the  town,  which  was  largely  Tory, 
greeted  the  British  entrance  with  loud  acclaim — not  an 
unusual  procedure,  for  all  through  history  we  find  cap- 
tured cities  striving  to  win  the  favor  of  the  conqueror 
by  extravagant  expressions  of  joy.  The  British 
marched  in  with  a  splendor  contrasting  vividly  with 
Washington's  parade  of  patriotic  tatterdemalions  a  few 
weeks  earlier.  The  soldiers  wore  their  best  scarlet  and 
the  bands,  which  were  many,  discoursed  the  patriotic 
airs   of  England.     Everybody   was   agog   to   see  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       101 

Hessians.  "Their  looks'  to  r'ftfg  were  terrific, "  wrote 
a  gentleman,  who,  as  a  boy  of  ten,  witnessed  the  spec- 
tacle. ".  .  .  their  brass  caps,  their  mustachios, 
their  countenances  by  nature  morose,  and  their  music 
that  sounded  in  better  English  than  they  themselves 
could  speak,    '  Plunder !     Plunder !     Plunder !  '  " 

Settling  down  to  the  occupation  of  Philadelphia, 
Howe  protected  himself  by  stationing  a  strong  detach- 
ment at  Germantown,  commanding  the  roads  into  the 
city  from  the  north.  Washington  looked  upon  this 
outpost  and  thought  the  chance  of  destroying  it  good. 
Moreover,  he  wanted  to  combat  the  depressing  effect 
upon  the  army  and  the  country  of  the  reverses  at 
Brandywine  and  Paoli.  The  British  had  not  fortified 
themselves  in  any  fashion,  but  their  troops  were  en- 
camped about  the  mansion  of  Benjamin  Chew,  then 
Chief  Justice  of  Pennsylvania.  This  house  with  its 
massive  stone  walls  was  destined  to  play  a  considerable 
part  in  history. 

The  night  of  October  3,  the  Americans,  about  ten 
thousand  in  number  with  forty  field  pieces,  took  up 
their  march.  The  bustle  in  their  camp  had  been  re- 
ported to  Howe,  who  had  warned  his  generals  to  be 
on  the  alert.  Marching  all  night  they  came  into  col- 
lision with  the  enemy  at  sunrise,  but  so  heavy  a  fog 
filled  the  air  that  men  were  scarcely  visible  at  twenty 
yards.  At  first  all  went  well  for  the  Americans,  though 
the  fog  told  heavily  against  their  plan  of  attack  by 
converging  columns.  Sullivan's  troops  drove  that  part 
of  the  British  line  they  first  encountered  back  for  a 
full  mile.  There  Musgrave  for  a  time  checked  the 
American  advance  but  soon  gave  way.  At  that  mo- 
ment Sir  William  Howe  came  on  the  scene,  mighty 
wrathful  to  find  his  troops  retreating.  M  For  shame, 
Light  Infantry !  "  he  cried,  "  I  never  saw  you  retreat 
before.     Form  !     Form !     It  is  only  a  scouting  party." 


102         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

At  that  moment  an  American  battery  opened  with  grape 
on  the  general  and  his  staff,  and  they,  too,  vanished  in 
the  fog. 

At   this   moment   combined   good   fortune   for  the 
British  and  bad  judgment  for  the  Americans,  saved  the 
day  for  the  former.     Colonel  Musgrave  with  six  com- 
panies of  British  regulars  were  surrounded,  and  seemed 
to  have  no  alternative  but  surrender,  when  opportunity 
came  for  them  to  fight  their  way  into  the  Chew  house. 
Quickly  they  barricaded  the  doors,  manned  the  win- 
dows and  prepared  to  stand  a  siege.     The  main  body 
of  the  British  army  was  now  in  full  retreat,  despite  the 
presence    of    the    commander-in-chief.     The    obvious 
thing  to  do  was  to  press  on  and  cut  them  to  pieces, 
leaving   this    inconsiderable    force    in   the   rear.     But 
there  is  a  military  maxim  against  leaving  a  hostile  forti- 
fied point  behind  an  advancing  army,  and  it  appealed 
strongly  to  the  book  soldiers  in  Washington's  army. 
"  What,"  cried  Colonel  Joseph  Reed,  "  call  this  a  fort 
and  lose  the  happy  moment!"     Unfortunately,   this 
was  precisely   what  was   done.     Behind   the    massive 
stone  walls  of  the  mansion  Musgrave's  men  kept  the 
greater  part  of  the  American  force  busy,  until  Corn- 
wallis  arrived  from  Philadelphia  with  a  division  of 
light  horse.     Then  the  British  rallied  and  drove  the 
Americans  back.     The  fighting  about  the  house  was 
savage  in  the   extreme.     A  boyish  American  officer, 
advancing  with  a  white  flag,  was  shot  dead,  for  the 
nature  of  his  colors  was  not  discernible  in  the  dense 
fog.     Then  the  American  cannon  opened.^     They  blew 
in  the  doors,  did  havoc  with  window  casings,  but  had 
no  effect  on  the  stout  walls.     Piles  of  mahogany  furni- 
ture barricaded  the   entrance,   and  one  after  another 
American  storming  parties  were  repulsed  with  heavy 
loss.     One  officer,  carrying  straw  and  a  lighted  torch, 
was  slain  by  a  shot-fired  upward  through  a  cellar  grating, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       103 

as  though  Hades  itself  had  joined  in  the  defence. 
When  the  battle  ended  fifty-three  lay  dead  on  the  lawn, 
and  four  prone  across  the  very  doorsill.  So  loud  was 
the  firing  at  this  point  that  regiments  and  divisions  lost 
in  the  fog,  thinking  that  the  centre  of  battle,  groped 
their  way  thither.  As  a  result  three  thousand  Ameri- 
can troops  that  should  have  been  pressing  on  the  main 
attack,  were  engaged  with  Musgrave's  handful  of  in- 
fantry. 

Failing  ammunition  and  the  new  strength  of  the 
British  at  length  decided  the  issue  of  battle.  Washing- 
ton was  the  promptest  of  men  to  recognize  the  need 
for  retreat  when  it  became  inevitable.  In  this  in- 
stance he  quickly  had  his  lines  reformed  and  marched 
to  safety,  saving  all  his  cannon.  But  his  loss  was 
heavy.  Four  hundred  Americans  had  been  taken 
prisoners,  six  hundred  killed  or  wounded.  The  British 
loss  was  only  half  as  great.  Both  sides  united  in  caring 
for  the  wounded  and  there  is  a  ghastly  light  thrown  on 
battle-field  surgery  by  this  note  left  by  a  spectator:  "  I 
went  to  see  Dr.  Foulke  amputate  an  American  soldier's 
leg  which  he  completed  in  twenty  minutes,  while  the 
physician  at  the  military  hospital  was  forty  minutes 
performing  an  operation  of  the  same  nature."  There 
was  no  ether  nor  other  merciful  anaesthetic  in  those 
days. 

The  results  of  the  Battle  of  Germantown  were  curi- 
ously diverse.  The  military  effect  might  have  been 
serious  had  Howe  followed  it  up  with  sledge-hammer 
blows,  as  nearly  a  century  later  Grant  did  in  fighting 
an  enemy  no  less  brilliant  and  resourceful  than  Wash- 
ington. Upon  the  American  soldiers  the  effect  was 
stimulating.  Though  defeated  they  knew  it  had  been 
by  a  "  scratch,"  and  they  were  proud  of  a  general  who 
even  in  retreat  could  thus  turn  and  hammer  his  ad- 
versary.    In  Europe  the   fact  that  Washington   had 


io4         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

thus  shown  again  the  dash  and  spirit  he  had  manifested 
at  Trenton  and  Princeton  was  generally  applauded. 
The  recognition  of  the  United  States  by  France,  which 
presently  followed,  was  not  a  little  hastened  by  this 
evidence  that  the  Americans  refused  to  recognize 
defeat.  But  the  American  politician  in  Congress  re- 
mained sceptical,  sneered  at  Fabian  tactics  and  hinted 
at  Washington's  incapacity. 

Though  Howe  was  now  snug  in  Philadelphia,  he 
was  not  yet  comfortable  there.  His  addition  of  some 
twenty  thousand  men  to  the  population  of  that  city 
made  the  question  of  subsistence  a  serious  one.  Living 
on  the  surrounding  country  was  made  difficult  by  the 
close  presence  of  the  American  army,  and  also  by  the 
fact  that  the  farmers  of  the  neighborhood  were  not 
altogether  favorable  to  the  cause  of  the  King — though 
indeed,  the  surroundings  of  Philadelphia  were  more 
Tory  than  Patriot.  True,  Howe's  brother  with  his 
fleet  controlled  the  ocean,  and  the  waterways  leading  to 
Philadelphia,  save  at  a  point  a  few  miles  below  the  city 
where  the  Americans  had  obstructed  the  channel  and 
built  defensive  works  on  the  banks.  It  was  evident 
that  these  obstructions  must  be  swept  away  if  the 
British  were  to  enjoy  the  winter  of  gaiety  and  good 
cheer  they  had  planned. 

The  Patriot  works  on  the  Delaware  consisted  of  two 
forts,  Mifflin,  on  the  Pennsylvania  shore,  and  Mercer, 
at  Red  Bank  on  the  New  Jersey  shore.  At  various 
points  the  channel  was  obstructed  by  driving  steel- 
pointed  piles  into  the  bed,  at  an  angle  of  about  forty- 
five  degrees  with  the  points  directed  down  stream,  so 
that  any  ascending  ship  would  be  impaled,  and  either 
sunk  or  held  a  fair  target  for  the  guns  of  the  forts. 
An  incomplete  fort  stood  at  Billingsport  on  the  Jersey 
side,  but  this  was  at  once  taken  by  the  British  and  the 
chevaux  de  frise   in  the  channel  before   it  removed. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       105 

This  left  the  two  other  forts  blocking  the  waterway  to 
Philadelphia.  Their  possession  was  all-important. 
"  Upon  taking  them,"  wrote  Washington,  "  depends 
all  the  enemy's  hopes  of  keeping  Philadelphia  and  finally 
succeeding."  Accordingly,  the  Americans  threw  strong 
garrisons  into  both  forts,  and  further  strengthened 
them  by  a  mongrel  fleet,  consisting  of  one  good  frigate, 
and  a  number  of  floating  batteries,  xebecs,  fireships, 
galleys,  gondolas,  and  other  bizarre  craft  of  the  day. 
The  flotilla  might  have  been  of  some  service  had  its 
commander  thought  fit  to  bring  it  into  action  on  the 
day  of  battle.  But  it  was  as  badly  manned  as  com- 
manded, most  of  its  defenders  being  landsmen,  who 
had  been  moved  to  enlist  by  a  glowing  advertisement 
which  offered  them  a  month's  pay  in  advance  and  "  a 
dollar's  worth  of  drink  to  drown  sorrow  and  drive 
away  care." 

Sir  William  Howe  was  not  less  aware  than  was 
Washington  of  the  importance  of  these  forts  and,  over- 
coming his  natural  tendency  to  delay,  began  on  the  day 
he  entered  Philadelphia  his  preparations  for  their  reduc- 
tion. Lord  Howe  brought  his  fleet  back  into  the 
Delaware  and  soon  lay  at  anchor  just  out  of  range  of 
the  American  cannon.  The  fleet  was  to  keep  Fort 
Mercer  busy  by  a  lively  cannonade  of  its  water-front, 
while  Colonel  Von  Donop  with  two  thousand  Hessian 
bayonets  was  to  carry  the  works  by  assault.  For  this 
employment  Von  Donop  had  petitioned  Howe.  The 
Hessians  were  somewhat  in  disrepute  in  the  British 
camp,  and  he  desired  to  reestablish  them.  The  fort 
was  garrisoned  by  about  four  hundred  Rhode  Island 
troops  under  command  of  Colonel  Christopher  Greene. 

About  four  of  the  afternoon  of  the  2 2d  of  October, 
Colonel  Von  Donop  aligned  his  men  before  the  fort, 
and  sent  forward  two  of  his  staff  officers  to  parley. 
After  berating  the  garrison  as  rebels,  they  were  sum- 


106         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

moned  to  surrender  with  the  warning  that  "  if  they 
stood  the  battle,  no  quarter  whatever  should  be  shown 
them."  That  was  rather  unusual  savagery,  but  the 
Americans  shouted  back  defiance,  and  the  Hessians 
cheering  wildly,  and  declaring  the  fort  should  soon  be 
rechristened  Fort  Von  Donop,  rushed  boldly  to  the 
assault.  Greene,  knowing  that  his  force  was  inadequate 
to  man  the  whole  range  of  walls,  had  withdrawn  his 
troops  into  the  inner  fort,  and  from  its  parapet  watched 
the  advancing  foe.  One  word  of  counsel  he  gave  to 
his  men  ere  the  clash — a  direction  to  be  ranked  with 
the  Bunker  Hill  command,  "Don't  fire  until  you  see 
the  whites  of  their  eyes."  "  Fire  low,  my  men,"  said 
Greene.  "  They  have  a  broad  belt  just  above  the  hips. 
That  is  where  you  must  aim." 

When  the  advancing  Hessians  found  the  outer  line 
of  breastworks  undefended,  they  thought  the  garrison 
had  fled  in  panic.  In  the  intoxication  of  victory  they 
cheered,  danced,  threw  caps  in  air,  and  came  on  like  a 
torrent.  Speedily  they  were  undeceived.  Their  fur- 
ther path  was  obstructed  by  fallen  trees  and  sharp 
spikes.  Entangled  in  these  they  received  the  first 
deadly  volley  delivered  in  accordance  with  Greene's 
shrewd  order.  Officers  and  men  went  down  in  heaps. 
Three  colonels  fell  together.  Though  they  rallied  for 
another  rush  the  Americans  had  reloaded  and  again 
they  went  down  in  crimson  carnage.  After  the  fashion 
of  the  German  soldiers  they  were  encumbered  by  huge 
knapsacks  and  heavy  leathern  hats.  They  had  no 
scaling  ladders,  and  loaded  down  as  they  were,  had  no 
chance  of  climbing  the  smooth  wall  that  confronted 
them.  Von  Donop  fell  early  in  the  action.  His 
routed  followers  sought  to  escape  the  trap  by  running 
around  to  the  river  side  of  the  fort,  but  there  they  en- 
countered the  American  galleys  which  rowed  close  in 
shore  and  poured  upon  them  murderous  volleys.     On 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       107 

few  battle  fields  has  the  carnage  been  more  frightful. 
In  forty  minutes  all  of  the  Hessians  who  were  able  to 
walk  had  fled.  They  were  not  content  with  merely 
retiring  out  of  the  field  of  fire.  They  plodded  on 
through  the  night  until  they  reached  the  ferry  which 
took  them  across  the  Delaware  to  safety. 

One  hundred  and  twenty-seven  dead  Hessians  lay 
within  the  outer  walls  of  the  fort.  The  wounded  had 
been  helped  away  by  their  companions  in  arms,  but  of 
these  twenty-two  were  buried  by  the  roadside,  and  sixty, 
too  spent  to  march  even  with  help,  were  left  behind. 
Out  of  a  pile  of  dead  the  American  soldiers  dragged 
poor  Von  Donop,  fatally  wounded.  They  could  not 
forbear  reminding  him  of  his  threat  of  no  quarter. 
14 1  am  in  your  hands,"  said  he.  "  Do  with  me  as  you 
will."  He  was  tenderly  cared  for  but  died  on  the 
third  day.  It  had  been  a  sorry  day  for  the  Hessians, 
but  there  was  profit  in  it  for  the  serene  Landgrave,  who 
had  sold  them  to  the  British  to  make  food  for  cannon. 
He  was  to  get  an  extra  thirty  crowns  each  for  his  be- 
loved subjects  killed  in  battle.  Their  families  got 
nothing. 

It  was  a  sorry  moment  for  the  British.  The  naval 
attack  on  Fort  Mifflin  had  failed,  and  a  ship-of-the-line 
and  a  cruiser  were  destroyed  by  fire.  Just  at  this  junc- 
ture, too,  the  British  learned  of  Burgoyne's  surrender, 
which  sorely  depressed  them.  There  was  talk  in  the 
American  camp  of  attacking  the  enemy,  but  Washing- 
ton felt  the  risk  was  too  great.  Indeed,  events  were 
sufficiently  making  Howe's  position  uncomfortable 
without  any  new  American  hostilities.  The  day  of 
high  prices  had  come  upon  Philadelphia,  and  the  pinch 
of  starvation  would  next  be  felt  unless  the  Delaware 
could  be  opened.  So  it  was  determined  to  assault  the 
barrier  again,  Fort  Mifflin  being  this  time  the  point 
of  attack.     That  work  had  been  so  located  that  it  could 


108         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

be  commanded  both  by  shore  batteries  and  the  British 
fleet,  and  the  enemy  having  built  the  former  and  moved 
the  latter  into  position,  began  a  savage  fire  on  the 
works.  It  is  estimated  that  for  a  time  over  a  thousand 
shot  passed  over  or  fell  into  the  fort  every  twenty 
minutes.  For  several  days  this  furious  cannonade  was 
kept  up,  destroying  all  edifices  within  the  works  and 
levelling  the  redoubts  to  the  ground.  The  vessels 
could  approach  so  closely  that  marines  in  the  tops  could 
shoot  down  into  the  fort.  By  such  a  shot  Colonel 
Smith  was  wounded,  and  Major  Thayer  took  his  place. 
There  was,  indeed,  little  to  do  but  to  stick.  To  reply 
to  the  fire  was  impossible.  To  save  lives  Thayer  sent 
away  all  his  men  save  forty,  and  with  these  completed 
the  destruction  of  the  fort  and  retired  at  dead  of  night. 
Not  long  thereafter  Cornwallis,  with  five  thousand 
men,  was  sent  to  attack  Fort  Mercer,  but  that  post  was 
no  longer  worth  the  price  of  its  defence  and  it  was 
accordingly  abandoned. 

Winter  was  now  approaching  and  the  two  armies 
prepared  to  meet  it  in  very  different  fashions.  The 
British  were  quite  comfortable  in  Philadelphia  with  the 
river  open  for  supplies,  and  with  the  foe  in  their  front 
hardly  likely  to  attack  them.  The  finest  houses  in  the 
city  were  commandeered  for  officers*  quarters.  For 
every  inhabitant  over  ten  years  of  age  there  was  now 
one  British  soldier — for  the  mass  of  the  citizens  who 
were  Patriots  had  departed  after  the  Brandywine  battle. 

But  there  was  plenty  of  gaiety.  The  store  of  old 
madeira  in  Philadelphia  had  long  been  famous,  and 
there  were  balls  at  the  City  Tavern,  sport  at  the  cock- 
pit, a  new  race  course  especially  constructed  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  red-coated  officers,  faro  and  other  games 
of  chance  everywhere,  and  above  all,  hosts  of  young 
ladies,  even  among  the  Patriots,  who  did  not  scorn  a 
dance  with   a   scarlet  coat   plentifully  bedecked  with 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       109 

gold  braid.  British  commissaries  of  prisoners  grew 
rich  feeding  American  prisoners  in  Walnut  Street  jail 
on  rats  and  garbage.  The  professional  gamblers 
revelled  in  luxury,  though  more  than  one  young  officer 
was  compelled  to  sell  his  commission  and  go  home, 
ruined  by  an  unlucky  turn  of  the  cards  at  faro.  Women 
of  that  class  that  follows  an  army  were  much  in  evi- 
dence, and  the  mistress  of  one  officer  created  a  sensa- 
tion by  driving  along  the  lines  at  a  review  dressed  in  an 
adaptation  of  the  uniform  of  her  patron's  regiment. 

The  American  army  faced  a  winter  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent sort.  Yet  Valley  Forge,  the  name  of  which 
has  passed  into  our  national  tradition  as  a  synonym  for 
bitter  privation  and  cruel  suffering,  was  by  nature  well 
fitted  for  a  winter's  encampment.  A  hill,  steep  on  the 
side  toward  the  enemy,  sloped  gently  down  to  the 
Schuylkill  River.  Here  the  Americans  built  log  huts 
and  threw  up  intrenchments — it  was  the  common  jest 
among  the  enemy  that  the  Patriots  never  went  into 
camp  for  a  night  without  building  defensive  works. 
The  men  who  settled  down  in  these  huts  to  await  the 
winter  were  ill-clad,  half-shod,  staining  the  icy  roads 
with  their  blood  as  they  walked.  Two  days  before 
Christmas  Washington  reported  2,898  men  as  unfit  for 
duty  for  lack  of  shoes  and  other  needful  articles  of 
clothing.  Although  they  were  in  an  excellent  situation 
for  obtaining  food  from  the  country-side  they  had  no 
money  to  obtain  it,  and  the  hard  money  dispensed  at 
Philadelphia  tempted  the  farmers  to  take  their  produce 
thither  for  sale.  The  American  Commissary  Mifflin, 
had  thought  to  show  his  disapprobation  of  Washing- 
ton by  resigning  his  office,  and  that  important  branch 
of  the  service  was  therefore  in  a  state  of  chaos.  Wash- 
ington expressed  his  apprehension  that  the  army  would 
"  starve,  dissolve,  or  disperse  in  order  to  obtain  sub- 
sistence."    Indeed,  the  tattered  ranks  did  begin  to  melt 


no         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

away.  Galloway,  an  American,  who  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  Howe  chief  of  police  of  Philadelphia,  re- 
ported that  over  two  thousand  American  soldiers  came 
to  his  office  for  help.  Many  of  them  were  bareheaded, 
barefooted,  with  ragged  blankets  for  overcoats  and 
ready  to  sell  their  guns  to  buy  necessaries.  Besides 
those  who  deserted  to  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  there 
were  hundreds  who  simply  went  home.  The  American 
patriot  was  a  farmer  first — a  soldier  only  when  he 
thought  it  needful.  Ready  enough  on  the  march  or  in 
the  attack,  he  could  not  understand  the  necessity  of 
clinging  to  a  camp  through  a  cold  and  hungry  winter 
when  his  own  warm  farmhouse  awaited  him  with  plenti- 
ful good  cheer.  So  every  winter  Washington's  lines 
dwindled  while  the  yeomanry  went  home  to  return 
again  when  the  sun  of  springtime  made  life  in  the  field 
tolerable. 

But  this  winter  of  1777-78  saw  the  heaviest  of  these 
annual  losses.  It  is,  indeed,  a  wonderful  tribute  to  the 
loyalty  of  the  men  and  to  the  genius  of  Washington 
for  inspiring  devotion,  that  any  remained.  A  Euro- 
pean officer,  serving  with  the  troops,  tells  of  a  sentry, 
his  feet  tied  up  in  rags,  his  coat  tattered  and  open  to  the 
icy  winds,  his  red  and  frost-nipped  hands  ungloved, 
pacing  his  beat,  and  singing  a  song  in  praise  of  the 
commander-in-chief!  In  February,  1778,  Washing- 
ton reported  "  a  part  of  the  army  had  been  a  week 
without  any  kind  of  flesh  and  the  rest  three  or  four 
days."  From  the  huts  rose  doleful  cries  of  "  No 
meat !  No  meat  I  •'  and  the  Americans,  more  used  to 
a  flesh  diet  than  the  peasantry  of  Europe,  found  but  an 
unsatisfactory  substitute  in  soaked  wheat  and  sugar,  or 
flour  paste.  Once  an  officer,  seeing  a  kettle  boiling 
merrily,  asked  one  of  the  soldiers  in  the  group  what 
they  were  cooking.  "  A  stone,  Colonel,"  was  the 
reply.     "  They  say  there  is  great  strength  in  that  if  you 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       in 

can  get  it  out."  The  jest  was  not  more  grim  than  the 
reality. 

Of  clothing  the  soldiers  were  equally  destitute.  In 
November,  1777,  Washington  formally  offered  a  re- 
ward of  ten  dollars  to  the  one  who  should  produce  the 
best  substitute  for  shoes  made  of  raw  hides.  He  de- 
clared that  for  lack  of  blankets  they  were  obliged  to 
sit  up  all  night  before  the  fires.  Anthony  Wayne,  in 
a  rage,  reported  that  a  third  of  his  men  had  "  no  shirt 
under  heaven/'  and  that  their  clothes  were  in  ribbons. 
Lafayette  told  of  poor  fellows  whose  feet  were  frozen 
black  and  had  to  be  amputated.  When  a  soldier's  turn 
for  picket  duty  came  his  comrades  who  were  to  stay 
in  the  warm  hut,  contributed  articles  of  clothing  that 
he  might  withstand  the  cold.  Naturally,  amidst  such 
pinching  want,  the  hospitals  were  pest  houses.  The 
worst  of  it  all  was  that  hogsheads  of  shoes  and  raiment 
were  ready  for  the  camp,  but  there  was  no  way  of  get- 
ting them  hauled  to  it.  "  Perhaps  by  midsummer," 
wrote  Washington,  "  the  soldiers  may  receive  thick 
stockings,  shoes,  and  blankets,  which  he  will  contrive 
to  get  rid  of  in  the  most  expeditious  manner.  By  an 
eternal  round  of  the  most  stupid  management  the  pub- 
lic treasure  is  expended  to  no  kind  of  purpose,  while  the 
men  have  been  left  to  perish  by  inches  with  cold  and 
nakedness." 

Why  General  Howe,  with  his  twenty  thousand  well 
fed  and  accoutred  men,  did  not  attack  the  half-frozen, 
half-starved,  and  wholly  dispirited  American  army — 
which  at  one  time  numbered  barely  four  thousand — 
is  one  of  the  puzzles  of  history.  In  his  later  defence 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  the  British  general  laid 
great  stress  on  Washington's  redoubts,  giving  thereby 
some  force  to  the  American  theory  that  the  redoubt  at 
Bunker  Hill  permanently  shattered  Howe's  nerve.  It 
is  more  probable,  however,  that  the  general,  who  at 


H2         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

home  was  one  of  the  Whigs  who  disapproved  of  the 
war  upon  the  colonies,  sincerely  believed  that  moderate 
measures  would  lead  the  Americans  to  listen  favorably 
to  the  proposals  for  peace  which  he  put  forth  as  soon 
as  he  was  established  in  Philadelphia.  Indeed,  in  his 
defence,  he  said  that,  "  A  check  at  this  moment  would 
probably  counteract  His  Majesty's  intentions  of  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  the  return  of  peace  by  the  bills  pro- 
posed." These  bills  were  parliamentary  measures  for 
a  peace  commission  to  negotiate  for  a  compromise. 
But  bitter  as  was  the  state  of  the  Patriot  army  in  this 
winter  of  discontent,  there  was  no  thought  of  compro- 
mise. All  felt  that  as  soon  as  the  news  of  Burgoyne's 
surrender  reached  Europe,  France  at  least  would  recog- 
nize the  colonies  as  independent  and  come  to  their 
aid — which  indeed  turned  out  to  be  the  fact. 

But  throughout  the  cold  and  cruel  winter  Washing- 
ton expected  an  attack  by  Howe,  and  privately  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  it  could  not  be  resisted.  To 
both  parties,  Patriot  and  Tory,  the  lethargy  of  the 
British  general  was  inexplicable.  Much  was  made  of 
the  fact  that  a  fine  setter  dog,  wearing  a  collar  showing 
him  to  be  the  property  of  General  Howe,  strolled  one 
day  into  the  American  camp  and  was  politely  sent  back 
to  his  master.  From  this  it  was  argued  that  an  under- 
standing existed  between  the  hostile  generals,  and  an 
absurd  story  became  current  that  Washington  would 
occasionally  visit  the  cify  incog,  and  accompany  Howe 
to  the  theatre. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Washington  was  using  the  win- 
ter to  drill  such  fragment  of  his  army  as  remained 
into  the  semblance  of  regular  soldiers.  With  the  butt 
of  his  musket  at  his  shoulder  and  his  eye  seeking  the 
sight,  the  American  soldier  was  a  man  to  beware  of. 
But  when  it  came  to  the  manual  of  arms,  he  was  a  man 
to  laugh  at.     To  correct  this,  Baron  Von  Steuben,  one 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       113 

of  the  really  devoted  foreign  volunteers  who  lent  us 
their  aid,  undertook  to  be  drill-master,  and  with  a  mus- 
ket in  his  hands  taught  the  lieutenants,  who,  in  turn, 
were  to  teach  the  privates.  As  the  winter  wore  on, 
too,  Washington,  despairing  of  getting  proper  supplies 
through  the  established  commissaries,  took  matters  into 
his  own  hands,  and  sent  out  his  ablest  officers  to  gather 
provisions  from  those  sections  of  New  Jersey  and  Penn- 
sylvania which  had  been  feeding  the  British.  Desti- 
tute of  money,  the  foragers  paid  in  promissory  notes 
which  in  due  time  were  honored.  They  gathered  good 
store  of  cattle,  sheep  and  swine,  and  wagonloads  of 
grain.  Moreover,  they  captured  supplies  that  were 
on  their  way  to  Philadelphia,  thereby  filling  their  own 
larders  besides  depleting  those  of  the  enemy.  The 
soldiers  engaged  in  this  work  were  called  in  Philadel- 
phia "  market  stoppers,"  and  when  caught  were  be- 
decked with  vegetables  and  market  baskets,  and  paraded 
through  the  city  streets  before  being  whipped  and  sent 
to  prison.  The  Americans,  in  retaliation,  when  they 
caught  a  Tory  farmer  taking  goods  to  the  British  camp, 
would  brand  him  in  the  hand  with  the  letters  G.  R.,  and 
send  him  into  the  enemy's  lines.  The  results  of  the 
Patriot  forays  were  to  so  replenish  the  Valley  Forge 
larder  that  in  the  spring  each  private  received  daily  a 
pound  and  a  half  of  bread,  a  pound  of  beef  or  fish  or 
pork  and  beans,  and  a  gill  of  whiskey.  The  "  water 
wagon  "  formed  no  part  of  the  Patriot  baggage  train. 
With  the  coming  of  spring  many  things  occurred  to 
give  new  confidence  to  the  Patriots  and  to  swell  their 
ranks.  Divers  cabals  and  political  intrigues  against 
Washington,  which  were  at  the  time  so  numerous  as 
to  make  discussion  of  them  impossible  in  a  brief  his- 
torical work,  had  failed,  and  brought  upon  their  authors 
such  odium  that  Congress  thereafter  forbore  to  med- 
dle with  the  commander-in-chief  and  gave  him  a  free 


ii4         STORYOF  OUR  ARMY 

hand.  The  quartermaster's  department  had  at  last 
been  properly  organized,  and  with  Valley  Forge  no 
longer  a  starvation  camp,  the  soldiers  came  trooping 
back.  But  most  stimulating  of  all  the  happenings 
was  the  news  which  reached  Washington  on  May  I, 
1778,  that  a  treaty  of  commerce  and  alliance  had  been 
concluded  with  France.  Every  soldier  was  enough  of 
a  politician  to  know  that  this  meant  substantial  aid  in 
the  way  of  men,  money,  ships,  and  munitions  of  war. 
The  camp  was  wild  with  enthusiasm.  A  day  of 
thanksgiving  was  set,  and  after  due  praise  and  prayer 
a  banquet  was  served  to  1,500  officers  who  marched 
to  the  table  thirteen  abreast  with  arms  locked  in  token 
of  the  Union  of  the  thirteen  states.  A  British  spy, 
being  detected  in  camp,  was  given  his  liberty  upon  con- 
dition that  he  would  return  to  Philadelphia  and  inform 
the  British  of  the  exultation  of  their  enemy. 

But  the  British  for  their  part  were  planning  a  more 
regal  celebration  of  a  very  different  event.  Late  in 
1777,  Sir  William  Howe,  being  piqued  at  the  tone  of 
certain  criticisms  made  upon  his  strategy,  wrote  a  letter 
to  the  Ministry  which  might  be  constructed  as  a  resig- 
nation. Lord  George  Germaine  chose  so  to  take  it, 
and  promptly  sent  an  acceptance  with  an  order  that  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  should  assume  command.  Howe's  offi- 
cers were  sincerely  grieved.  Though  all  must  have 
recognized  his  lack  of  vigor,  and  not  a  few  had  com- 
mented upon  it,  they  all  liked  him  as  a  man.  Perhaps 
the  fact  that  he  had  no  zest  for  pushing  them  into 
uncomfortable  positions — having  spent  his  three  winters 
in  America's  three  largest  towns — had  something  to  do 
with  this.  At  any  rate  they  determined  to  make  his 
last  days  in  office  glorious — not  by  winning  a  battle, 
which  would  have  been  a  novel  celebration — but  with 
pageants  and  revelry.  The  outcome  was  the  famous 
Meschianza — a  combination  of  mock  tournaments  and 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       115 

mock  heroics,  in  which  officers  grouped  as  Knights  of 
the  Burning  Mountain  and  Knights  of  the  Blended 
Rose,  rode  caracoling  steads  in  honor  of  rival  Ameri- 
can and  English  Queens  of  Beauty.  There  was  much 
braying  of  brass  and  glittering  of  tinsel,  a  mighty  ban- 
quet with  oceans  of  wine  and  volleys  of  fireworks,  in 
which  was  consumed  the  gunpowder,  which  if  turned 
against  the  Americans  shivering  at  Valley  Forge  a  few 
months  earlier,  might  have  changed  the  history  of  the 
world.  The  stage  manager  of  the  comedy  was  a  bril- 
liant and  lovable  young  officer,  Major  John  Andre, 
who  was  destined  some  months  later  to  play  a  star  part 
in  the  sinister  tragedy  of  the  treason  of  Benedict 
Arnold. 

Howe  sailed  for  England  on  the  24th  of  May.  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  who  succeeded  him,  inherited  a  per- 
plexing situation.  Washington's  army  was  reinvigo- 
rated — one  might  almost  say  resurrected,  so  near  had 
it  been  to  death  in  the  days  of  winter.  His  flying 
squadrons  swept  clear  the  neighboring  portions  of  New 
Jersey  and  Pennsylvania  whence  Philadelphia  had 
drawn  its  supplies,  and  Clinton  was  wholly  dependent 
upon  the  Delaware  as  a  pathway  for  his  food  and  muni- 
tions of  war.  Even  this  road  was  not  free  and  open, 
for  both  shores  of  the  river  were  in  possession  of  the 
Americans,  who  disputed  with  artillery,  or  by  auda- 
cious expeditions  in  rowboats,  the  passage  of  cattle- 
ships  or  market  boats.  Out  on  the  ocean,  haunting  the 
line  between  Sandy  Hook  and  the  capes  of  the  Dela- 
ware, were  flotillas  of  privateers  which  found  large 
profits  in  preying  upon  ships  carrying  goods  to  Clinton. 
In  one  month  nine  big  ships  with  cargoes  valued  at 
over  $700,000  were  thus  taken.  Seven  loaded  wholly 
with  food  and  arms  for  the  British  troops  were  taken 
at  one  haul,  and  everything  useful  for  Washington's 
men  was  dispatched  direct  to  his  camp.     In  his  notable 


n6         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

book,  "  The  Influence  of  Sea  Power  on  History,"  Ad- 
miral Mahan  estimates  that  by  the  end  of  1778  the 
Americans  had  captured  nearly  a  thousand  merchant- 
men, valued  at  about  $10,000,000. 

But  more  perplexing  than  these  present  ills  was 
Clinton's  outlook  upon  the  future.  He  knew  only  too 
well  that  the  French  Comte  d'Estaing,  with  twelve 
ships  of  the  line,  a  large  fleet  of  frigates,  and  four 
thousand  infantry,  was  on  the  broad  Atlantic  headed 
for  America.  Should  he  arrive  and  seize  New  York, 
Clinton  would  lose  his  base  of  supplies  and  be  starved 
into  surrender  at  Philadelphia.  The  French  fleet  was 
too  strong  to  be  met  and  destroyed  by  Lord  Howe's 
naval  command,  and  whether  it  should  take  New  York 
or  merely  blockade  the  mouth  of  the  Delaware,  the 
condition  of  Clinton's  army  would  be  alike  hopeless. 
About  this  time  a  royal  commission  empowered  to  treat 
with  Washington  and  Congress  for  peace — an  em- 
bassy which  was  emphatically  dismissed  by  both — ar- 
rived at  Philadelphia,  and  Lord  Carlisle,  one  of  its 
members,  recorded  some  facts  which  show  the  be- 
leaguered state  of  the  British.  He  noted  the  chain  of 
war  vessels  anchored  in  the  river  to  protect  traffic, 
"  for  I  am  grieved,"  he  wrote,  "  that  both  sides  of  the 
river  are  in  possession  of  the  enemy,  who  are  well 
armed  and  absolutely  prevent  any  intercourse  whatever 
with  the  land."  Later  he  rode  out  into  the  country. 
11  This  is  market  day,"  he  wrote ;  "  to  protect  the  people 
bringing  in  provisions,  which  otherwise  they  would  not 
dare  to  do,  large  detachments  to  the  amount  of  above 
two  thousand  men,  are  sent  forward  into  the  country." 

This  was  almost  two  years  to  the  day  after  the  em- 
battled farmers  fired  the  shot  at  Lexington.  In  those 
two  years,  the  British  had  lost  Boston,  had  left  New 
York  open  to  Washington's  army,  and  lost  Burgoyne's 
army  and  St.  Leger's  expedition,  had  been  beaten  at 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       117 

Bennington,  Fort  Stanwix,  Bemis  Heights,  Saratoga, 
Princeton,  and  Trenton.  The  only  considerable  monu- 
ment of  British  power  remaining  in  America  was  this 
army  of  Clinton's  that  could  not  get  a  side  of  beef  or 
a  bushel  of  potatoes  up  the  Delaware  without  a  chain 
of  warships,  or  over  a  Jersey  road  without  an  armed 
guard. 

Clinton  determined  to  take  his  army  to  New  York. 
The  first  question  was — how?  He  had  a  fleet  at  his  dis- 
posal, and  it  seemed  easy  to  load  the  army  with  its 
stores  and  cannon  on  the  ships  and  sail  to  the  destina- 
tion. But  what  would  Washington  do  meantime? 
Calms  or  adverse  winds  might  delay  the  fleet  for  a 
month  or  more,  and  it  then  might  arrive  two  or  three 
ships  at  a  time.  Washington  could  get  his  sixteen 
thousand  or  eighteen  thousand  men  there  in  a  fortnight, 
fortify  the  Narrows,  and  keep  the  British  at  bay.  Or 
D'Estaing's  fleet  might  fall  upon  them  on  the  way,  or 
worse  yet,  might  be  already  waiting  in  New  York  har- 
bor to  take  them  at  a  disadvantage.  Moreover,  the 
Loyalists  wanted  to  flee  the  city  when  abandoned,  and 
would  take  up  much  of  the  room  on  the  ships,  while 
the  army  had  accumulated  several  thousand  horses, 
which  could  not  be  taken  by  water  and  which  the 
Americans  would  be  only  too  happy  to  get.  So  in  the 
end  Sir  Henry  determined  to  send  his  heavy  guns  by 
sea  and  march  his  army  to  New  York,  keeping  it  ever 
between  Washington  and  that  city. 

On  the  1 8th  of  June  Lord  Howe,  with  his  fleet  and 
chartered  merchantmen — three  hundred  sail  in  all — 
weighed  anchor  and  dropped  down  the  river.  Aboard 
were  about  three  thousand  Loyalists,  who  fled  from  the 
wrath  of  the  incoming  Patriots.  About  the  only  inhabi- 
tants of  Philadelphia  who  were  calm  and  unperturbed 
were  the  Quakers.  In  their  creed  was  provision  neither 
for  fighting  nor  for  running  away.   It  was  the  wise  prac- 


n8         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

tice  of  the  American  officers  always  to  respect  their 
scruples,  and  many  Quakers  served  the  American 
cause  more  effectively  than  if  they  had  killed  or  been 
killed.  Early  on  the  same  morning  the  Royal  troops 
marched  silently  down  the  streets  to  the  ferries  and 
crossed  over  into  New  Jersey.  There  was  none  of  the 
beat  of  drum  and  clash  of  brass  that  had  signalled 
their  entrance  into  the  "  rebel  capital  "  the  preceding 
summer.  They  slipped  away  as  though  shod  with 
rubber,  and  many  honest  citizens,  emerging  from  their 
homes  after  the  usual  breakfast  hour,  were  amazed  to 
find  the  streets  so  deserted  with  never  a  scarlet  coat  or 
a  Hessian  helmet  to  be  seen. 

Before  many  hours  passed  small  bodies  of  the 
American  troops  marched  into  Philadelphia  to  take 
possession  of  the  city.  Washington  kept  the  great 
body  of  his  army  together,  as  he  intended  to  start  im- 
mediately in  pursuit  of  Clinton.  The  new  American 
garrison  found  many  evidences  of  the  haste  of  the 
British  flight.  Salt  was  one  of  the  great  needs  of  the 
American  army,  and  the  fugitives  had  kindly  left 
130,000  bushels  of  it,  which  they  might  easily  have 
shovelled  into  the  Schuylkill.  Enormous  quantities  of 
military  stores  packed  the  depots  to  which  no  Redcoat 
had  the  foresight  to  apply  the  torch.  The  sutlers  at- 
tached to  Clinton's  army,  and  the  Tory  merchants  of 
the  town  who  fled  with  the  British,  sold  their  stocks 
cheap  to  the  shopkeepers  who  remained.  All  in  all, 
the  British  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  made  for  the 
advantage  of  the  American  army,  save  in  one  respect. 
Curiously  enough  Washington  left  the  ideal  fighter  of 
that  moment,  Benedict  Arnold,  in  command  of  the 
garrison,  and  took  the  marplot,  Charles  Lee,  with  him 
in  pursuit  of  the  British.  Lee  either  blundered  grossly 
or  played  the  poltroon  at  the  battle  of  Monmouth, 
putting  the  day  in  jeopardy.     Arnold — more  used  to 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       119 

the  tented  field  and  the  clash  of  battle  than  to  social 
amenities — became  the  associate  of  such  Tories  as  had 
remained  behind,  married  a  Tory  belle,  who  had  figured 
gaily  in  the  Meschianza,  and  began  to  lose  touch  with 
patriotic  sentiment.  Some  there  are  who  date  from 
this  Philadelphia  day  the  moral  deterioration  which 
ended  in  the  treason  of  West  Point. 

Nature  and  Washington  combined  to  make  Clinton's 
march  to  New  York  a  miserable  and  a  perilous  one. 
First  storms  and  then  a  blazing  sun  beat  upon  the 
British  heads,  while  all  the  time  the  Americans  hung 
on  the  flanks  of  the  column,  harassing  it  with  constant 
rifle  fire.  The  people  of  Jersey  sent  their  families  and 
livestock  to  places  of  safety,  cut  their  well-ropes,  hid 
everything  eatable  and  rifle  in  hand  nagged  the  British 
from  behind  stone-walls  and  protecting  trees.  It  was 
like  Pitcairn's  flight  from  Lexington,  long  protracted. 
At  one  time  rain  fell  for  fourteen  hours,  spoiling  the 
ammunition  and  supplies;  immediately  thereafter  the 
sun  blazed  out  fiercely.  The  heat  broke  all  records. 
Men  went  down  by  scores,  especially  the  poor  Hessians 
still  carrying  the  load  of  decoration  which  Frederick 
the  Great  thought  necessary  to  a  soldier.  The  wagon 
train  was  twelve  miles  long,  and  as  often  the  roads  and 
bridges  were  narrow,  or  the  latter  broken  down  by  the 
active  farmers,  progress  was  slow  and  the  infantry 
would  stand  for  hours  in  the  heat.  The  New  Jersey 
mosquito,  famous  to  the  present  day,  was  active  in 
adding  to  the  British  discomfort. 

Within  a  few  hours  after  Clinton's  departure  from 
Philadelphia  Washington  was  hot  upon  his  trail. 
Some  dissension  existed  in  the  American  ranks  as  to 
the  wisdom  of  attacking  the  fugitives,  but  in  a  council 
of  war  Washington  stood  with  Lafayette,  Anthony 
Wayne,  and  Nathanael  Greene  for  a  battle.  The 
British  line  indeed  invited  a  stroke.     It  was  nearly 


120         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

twenty  miles  long,  encumbered  with  a  baggage  train 
and  a  host  of  non-combatant  refugees,  and  destitute  of 
cavalry  force  adequate  to  protect  its  flanks.  Like  a 
serpent  it  was  formidable  when  gathered  to  strike,  but 
extended  could  be  broken  in  two  by  a  blow  at  any  part 
of  the  spine.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  was  not  blind  to  the 
peril  of  his  situation,  and  on  the  27th  of  June,  having 
reached  Monmouth  Court  House,  he  sent  all  his  bag- 
gage train  and  the  refugees  forward  on  the  road  to 
Sandy  Hook,  and  made  his  dispositions  for  battle. 
The  surrounding  country  was  swarming  with  Ameri- 
cans, and  the  garb  of  those  observed  made  it  clear  that 
the  advance  of  Washington's  army  was  at  hand. 

Charles  Lee  was  in  command  of  the  first  American 
division.  His  selection  was  a  blunder.  In  the  coun- 
cil he  spoke  warmly  against  any  attack  upon  the  British, 
saying  it  would  be  better  to  "  build  a  bridge  of  gold  " 
to  carry  them  to  New  York  than  to  risk  a  battle.  Per- 
haps this  idea  was  still  uppermost  in  his  mind  when  his 
division  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  was  struck  by 
Cornwallis,  who  brought  his  troops  into  action  in  gal- 
lant style.  Lee  proved  utterly  unable  to  meet  the  at- 
tack. Men  said  he  showed  the  white  feather  and  he 
was  later  court  martialed  on  this  and  other  charges  and 
found  guilty,  though  his  partisans  have  always  con- 
tended that  on  this  point  the  evidence  did  not  justify 
the  conviction.  At  any  rate  Washington,  coming  up 
to  a  field  on  which  he  had  every  expectation  of  finding 
the  Americans  triumphant,  found  them  instead  in  full 
retreat.  There  had  been  no  battle,  no  sustained  at- 
tack. Lee  had  given  the  order  to  turn  and  run  almost 
at  the  first  fire.  Lafayette  begged  for  permission  to 
rally  the  men  and  fight.  "  Sir,"  replied  Lee,  "  you  do 
not  know  British  soldiers.  We  cannot  stand  against 
them."  At  this  juncture  came  up  Washington.  He 
was  in  no  peaceful  mood.     Some  of  the  soldiers  had 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       121 

sulkily  excused  their  retreat  by  reference  to  the  gen- 
eral's (Lee's)  orders. 

Washington's  cold  blue  eye,  which  then  flashed  with 
rage,  lighted  upon  Lee.  "  I  desire  to  know,  sir,  what 
is  the  reason — whence  arises  this  disorder  and  con- 
fusion?" he  demanded.  Lee  responded  with  some 
equivocation.  The  discussion  grew  hot  and  in  its 
course  arrived  the  historic  moment  when — to  the  later 
delight  of  every  American  school-boy,  wearied  with 
the  perfections  of  the  Father  of  His  Country — Wash- 
ington broke  into  oaths. 

"  Yes,  sir!  "  said  General  Scott,  who  witnessed  the 
epoch-marking  occurrence,  "  he  swore  on  that  day  till 
the  leaves  shook  on  the  trees,  charmingly,  delightfully. 
Never  have  I  enjoyed  such  swearing  before  or  since. 
Sir,  on  that  memorable  day,  he  swore  like  an  angel 
from  heaven." 

With  his  spirit  high  from  this  encounter,  Washing- 
ton rallied  the  troops  for  victory.  "  I  never,"  said 
Alexander  Hamilton,  "  saw  him  to  such  advantage." 
Lee  was  sent  to  the  rear.  The  other  brigade  and 
division  commanders,  fired  with  new  determination, 
pushed  the  British  at  every  point,  and  they,  for  their 
part,  showed  great  gallantry.  Many  of  the  knights 
of  the  Burning  Mountain  or  of  the  Blended  Rose 
found  Monmouth's  field  of  honor  a  fatal  one.  The 
fury  of  the  conflict  was  made  more  dreadful  by  the 
excessive  heat.  Men  dropped  on  both  sides  from  sun- 
stroke and  many  went  mad.  Both  Clinton  and  Wash- 
ington reported  many  deaths  from  the  sun  though  the 
British,  dressed  in  heavy  wool,  were  the  greater 
sufferers. 

After  a  long  afternoon  of  carnage  the  two  armies 
lay  down  practically  on  the  same  field,  separated  by 
but  a  few  furlongs.  Washington  and  Lafayette  lay 
under  the  same   cloak,   sleepless   and  talking  of  the 


122         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

strange  conduct  of  Lee.  Perhaps  the  conversation 
dulled  their  ears,  for  the  night  was  not  half  spent 
when  Clinton  began  to  withdraw  his  army.  It  was 
a  retreat  for  silence  and  swiftness  worthy  of  Wash- 
ington, and  when  the  American  army  was  astir  in  the 
morning,  it  found  no  British  left  in  its  front,  save  the 
dead,  the  sorely  wounded,  and  the  stragglers.  Clinton 
was  too  far  away  for  successful  pursuit,  speeding 
toward  Sandy  Hook  where  he  hoped  to  find  the  Brit- 
ish fleet. 

Both  belligerents  claimed  Monmouth  as  a  victory. 
Clinton  pointed  out,  with  truth,  that  Washington  had 
failed  to  check  his  progress  to  New  York  or  to  cap- 
ture his  baggage — the  two  purposes  of  the  attack. 
He  also  pointed  with  pride  to  the  success  with  which 
he  had  stolen  away,  though  a  retreat  however  skilful 
seems  an  odd  achievement  on  which  to  base  a  claim 
of  victory.  The  Americans,  on  the  other  hand, 
claimed  that  their  final  possession  of  the  field  gave 
them  the  victory  no  less  than  the  heavy  losses  they 
had  inflicted  on  the  enemy.  But  the  estimates  of  losses 
were  conflicting  land  remained  so.  Washington  re- 
ported 60  killed,  130  wounded  and  130  missing. 
From  the  number  of  British  dead  his  soldiers  buried, 
he  estimated  Clinton's  loss  at  about  300  killed,  pos- 
sibly 1,000  wounded  and  a  great  number  deserted. 
Clinton,  however,  reported  124  dead  (59  from  heat), 
170  wounded  and  64  missing.  He  was  quite  certain 
that  the  American  losses  were  greater.  But  whether 
estimated  as  a  victory  or  as  a  drawn  battle,  the  fight 
at  Monmouth  was  of  advantage  to  the  Americans. 
Howe  had  been  boasting  that  he  continually  dared  the 
Americans  to  fight  in  the  open,  but  that  they  clung  to 
their  breastworks.  But  here  at  Monmouth,  the 
Americans  had  flung  themselves  across  the  British  path 
and  the  latter  had  fled  for  safety  by  the  shortest  route. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       123 

To  the  world  it  appeared  that  they  had  been  driven 
out  of  Philadelphia,  badly  cut  up  on  their  retreat  and 
only  reached  New  York  in  safety  because  of  the  succor 
of  Lord  Howe's  fleet. 

That  fleet  was  in  waiting  when  Clinton's  columns 
reached  Sandy  Hook.  The  army's  coming  was  her- 
alded far  in  advance  by  the  blazing  farmhouses  along 
its  route.  The  British  soldiers,  and  the  German  mer- 
cenaries in  particular,  pillaged  and  burnt  without 
scruple  or  mercy.  It  is  usually  the  case  that  soldiers 
who  break  over  discipline  in  one  particular  are  lax  in 
all,  and  desertions  from  the  British  ranks  ran  up  into 
the  hundreds.  It  was  said  that  two  weeks  after  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  abandoned  Philadelphia  not  less  than 
six  hundred  Redcoats,  mostly  Germans,  were  again 
loafing  in  the  streets  of  that  city.  Those  who  reached 
Sandy  Hook  were  speedily  taken  up  the  bay  to  New 
York,  in  all  about  ten  thousand  men,  with  their  ar- 
tillery and  baggage.  On  the  6th  of  July,  1778,  all 
were  safe.  It  was  the  30th  of  June,  1777,  that  Sir 
William  Howe  with  seventeen  thousand  men  had  set 
sail  from  that  port  for  Philadelphia.  The  year  had 
been  worse  than  fruitless  and  had  D'Estaing's  fleet, 
which  reached  Sandy  Hook  three  days  after  Clinton 
had  landed  his  troops  in  New  York,  been  but  a  few 
days  earlier  the  British  army  would  have  been 
destroyed  then  and  there,  and  the  Revolution  ended. 
As  it  was,  the  blow  to  British  prestige  was  mortal. 

"  What,"  asked  Horace  Walpole,  "  has  an  army 
of  fifty  thousand  men,  fighting  for  sovereignty  achieved 
in  America?  Retreated  from  Boston;  retreated  from 
Philadelphia;  laid  down  their  arms  at  Saratoga  and 
lost  thirteen  provinces." 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Wyoming  Massacre — Services  of  George  Rogers  Clark — The 
War  in  the  South— The  French  at  Savannah — Defeat  at  Camden 
—The  Victory  at  King's  Mountain. 

The  struggle  of  the  American  people  for  indepen- 
dence was  destined  to  continue  for  a  little  more  than 
three  years.  But  these  were  years  of  desultory  cam- 
paigns, of  raiding  expeditions,  of  ghastly  massacres 
due  to  the  British  employment  of  the  Indians,  and  of 
offensive  operations  in  widely  separated  sections  with 
no  coherent  plan.  Never,  after  the  downfall  of  Howe 
and  the  flight  of  Clinton,  did  the  British  Ministry  plan 
another  comprehensive  campaign  for  the  subjugation 
of  the  colonies.  The  English  people  were  sick  of  the 
war.  The  great  Whig  party,  though  in  the  minority, 
opposed  its  continuance  with  the  finest  oratory  of  such 
statesmen  as  Pitt  and  Burke.  England  was  without 
a  friend  in  Europe — more  isolated  even  than  was  our 
own  United  States  at  the  opening  of  the  Spanish  War 
of  1898.  France  had  made  a  treaty  with  the  colonies, 
her  friendly  fleet  was  on  our  coasts  and  war  between 
France  and  England  was  already  a  matter  of  fact,  if 
not  of  formal  declaration.  Frederick  the  Great  was 
encouraging  France  and  the  colonies  and  enriching 
military  history  with  shrewd  encomiums  upon  Wash- 
ington's strategy  in  the  New  Jersey  campaigns.  Out 
of  this  praise  have  grown  certain  legends,  as  that  the 
King  of  Prussia  sent  to  Washington  a  sword  inscribed, 
"  From  the  oldest  soldier  in  Europe  to  the  greatest 
soldier  in  the  world." 

In  this  situation,   torn  by  political  dissensions  at 

124 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       125 

home,  menaced  with  new  wars  on  every  side,  with 
Europe  showing  covert  friendship  to  the  Americans 
when  it  did  not  openly  aid  them,  the  English  Ministry 
would  probably  have  dropped  the  war  altogether  had 
it  not  been  for  King  George.  His  temper  was  un- 
compromising. Even  after  the  final  collapse  at  York- 
town,  when  Lord  North  on  receipt  of  the  news  cried 
wildly,  "Oh  God!  It  is  all  over!"  the  old  King 
calmly  declared  his  determination  to  proceed  with  the 
war.  But  after  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  the 
Ministry  made  only  a  showing  of  military  activity. 
There  was  fighting  enough  by  sea  and  by  land,  and 
much  of  it  was  bloody  and  even  barbarous.  But  ap- 
parently the  sole  British  purpose  was  to  harass  the 
Americans,  and  the  main  endeavor  of  the  latter  was 
to  resist  stubbornly,  until  the  enemy,  exhausted  by  its 
conflict  with  France,  should  abandon  its  hopeless  effort 
at  coercion.  The  story  of  the  Revolution  from  this 
time  forward,  therefore,  is  rather  the  story  of  notable 
battles    than  of  campaigns. 

The  first  fruits  of  the  French  alliance  proved  wholly 
disappointing.  The  fleet  under  D'Estaing  though  a 
noble  collection  of  vessels  and  superior  to  that  com- 
manded by  Lord  Howe,  reached  the  capes  of  the  Dela- 
ware too  late  to  intercept  the  English  on  their  way  to 
New  York.  Giving  prompt  pursuit,  the  French  ar- 
rived after  their  enemy  had  found  shelter  behind 
Sandy  Hook.  Howe,  an  able  sailor  and  a  gallant 
man,  had  put  his  ships  in  excellent  position  to  sustain 
an  attack  by  even  so  superior  a  force  as  that  of  the 
French  and  undoubtedly  expected  it.  But  D'Estaing 
showed  hesitancy  about  going  into  action.  He  pleaded 
that  the  channel  was  not  deep  enough  for  his  heaviest 
vessels,  and  after  backing  and  filling  in  the  offing 
finally  drew  off  and  made  for  Newport.  There  has 
been  much  discussion  of  his  action  and  the  charge  of 


126         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

timidity  has  been  freely  brought  against  him.  There 
is  evidence  that  at  that  season  the  channel  depth  was 
ample  for  any  of  his  ships,  and  there  is  reason  enough 
to  believe  that  when  he  saw  the  superiority  of  his 
force  offset  by  the  strength  of  Howe's  position,  he 
had  no  stomach  for  the  fight.  His  later  career  af- 
forded only  too  much  corroboration  of  this  theory. 

Newport  had  been  seized  by  Lord  Percy  in  Decem- 
ber, 1776,  and  was  the  only  British  stronghold  on 
New  England  soil.  Washington,  who  had  marched 
his  army  from  Monmouth  to  White  Plains  and  was 
again  in  his  old  lines  there,  thought  the  capture  of 
Newport  a  desirable  exploit.  The  British  now  held 
only  New  York  and  this  town,  and  expulsion  from 
either  would  be  a  serious  reverse.  Accordingly,  the 
New  England  militia  to  the  number  of  about  seventy- 
five  hundred  gathered  at  Providence,  under  command 
of  General  Sullivan.  Washington  sent  fifteen  hundred 
more,  commanded  by  the  veteran,  Greene,  who  was 
accompanied  by  Lafayette.  As  D'Estaing  had  four 
thousand  French  infantry  on  his  fleet,  it  was  thought 
that  with  his  cooperation  the  force  would  be  ample 
to  overcome  the  British  garrison. 

The  latter  was  commanded  by  General  Pigot,  who 
had  succeeded  a  certain  General  Prescott  of  unsavory 
renown.  The  latter  was  a  braggart,  a  bully,  and  as 
usually  happens,  a  coward.  He  was  much  given  to 
beating  Quakers,  who  in  accordance  with  the  customs 
of  their  church,  passed  him  on  the  street  without  un- 
covering, and  he  encouraged  his  soldiers  in  insulting 
women  and  plundering  citizens.  Being  captured, 
without  notable  resistance  on  his  part,  he  was  given 
dinner  at  an  inn.  kept  by  one  Captain  Alden.  Mrs. 
Alden,  among  other  dishes,  offered  him  some  succotash 
— a  viand  little  known  to  the  British. 

"  What  do  you   mean  by  offering  me  this  hog's 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       127 

food?  "  roared  the  boor,  snatching  the  dish  and  throw- 
ing it  to  the  floor.  The  poor  woman  left  the  room 
in  tears,  but  her  husband  entered  in  her  place  and  with 
a  rawhide  lashed  the  general  until  he  cried  for  mercy. 
The  Americans  shortly  after  exchanged  him  for  Gen- 
eral Charles  Lee,  and  it  is  hard  to  tell  which  got  the 
worst  of  the  bargain. 

General  Pigot,  his  successor  in  command  at  New- 
port, was  a  soldier  of  parts.  He  had  but  about  six 
thousand  troops  under  his  command  and  might  fairly 
have  faced  the  pending  attack  with  grave  apprehen- 
sion. But  he  acted  with  vigor  and  was  destined  to 
experience  a  new  proof  of  the  maxim,  "  Fortune  favors 
the  brave."  Count  d'Estaing,  upon  whose  coopera- 
tion rested  the  whole  promise  of  the  American  attack, 
was  the  most  unlucky  officer  whose  name  appears  in 
our  revolutionary  annals.  By  ill-luck  he  reached  our 
waters  only  a  day  or  two  too  late  to  meet  and  destroy 
Howe's  fleet  on  its  way  to  New  York.  Had  he  de- 
layed his  departure  from  that  port  after  his  failure 
to  fight,  he  could  have  easily  picked  up  several  British 
vessels  which,  sorely  battered  by  wind  and  wave,  came 
limping  in  to  reenforce  Howe  and  were  in  no  condition 
for  action.  Now  at  Newport  his  bad  luck — or  bad 
judgment — pursued  him.  August  10th  had  been  set 
for  the  joint  attack  on  Newport,  and  Sullivan's  yeo- 
manry had  indeed  moved  to  a  commanding  hill  on  the 
7th.  But  on  the  afternoon  of  the  10th,  Lord  Howe's 
fleet  put  in  an  appearance  in  the  offing.  That  admiral 
had  promptly  put  in  condition  the  battered  ships,  which 
D'Estaing  had  missed,  and  thus  reenforced,  sailed  at 
once  for  the  relief  of  Newport.  It  was  one  of  the 
most  effective  strokes  of  the  war — one  of  the  few 
times  the  British  acted  with  celerity. 

D'Estaing  had  landed  about  half  his  troops,  but 
fearing  to  be  attacked  at  anchor    recalled  them  and 


128         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

put  to  sea.  That  was  the  day  when  hostile  squadrons 
manoeuvred  interminably  to  get  some  advantage  of 
wind  or  tide,  and  two  days  were  spent  by  D'Estaing 
and  Howe  jockeying  for  the  weather  gage.  In  four 
hours  Admiral  Schley  destroyed  the  whole  of  Cer- 
vera's  fleet — ships  any  one  of  which  could  have 
annihilated  all  the  French  and  British  ships  off  New- 
port. While  the  two  admirals  were  trying  to  get 
the  right  wind,  the  wind  got  them,  for  there  blew  up 
the  mightiest  tempest  that  stormy  coast  had  known  in 
a  century.  The  fleets  were  blown  apart  and  resolved 
into  their  original  atoms  of  isolated  ships,  some  of 
which  met  and  fought  futile  fights.  The  British  ships 
were  widely  scattered  but  most  of  the  Frenchmen  made 
their  way  back  to  Newport. 

The  Americans,  meantime,  had  suffered  in  their 
trenches  from  the  tempest,  which  was  recalled  for 
half  a  century  in  Newport  as  u  the  great  storm,"  and 
had  moved  back  some  distance,  fearing  a  sortie.  See- 
ing the  fleet  return,  they  advanced  again  but  learned 
to  their  amazement  and  disgust  that  D'Estaing  had 
determined  to  abandon  the  attack  and  take  his  fleet 
to  Boston.  It  appeared  that  the  so-called  admiral 
was  really  a  military  man;  his  captains  were  navy 
officers  and  combined  to  force  him  to  this  course  seem- 
ingly against  his  will.  Sullivan,  Lafayette,  and  the 
rest  of  the  American  officers  naturally  protested  bit- 
terly. What  was  a  French  fleet  sent  here  for,  they 
asked,  if  not  to  fight?  Thereupon  the  admiral  declared 
himself  insulted  and  with  his  fleet  and  troops  departed 
for  Boston.  Shortly  thereafter  Howe  returned  to 
Newport  and  the  Americans,  seeing  the  opportunity 
to  take  the  town  lost  retired,  after  a  day's  heavy 
fighting  with  Pigot's  troops. 

In  Boston  the  Frenchmen  met  with  ill-concealed 
hostility.     The  street  urchins  mocked  at  the  seamen 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       129 

and  in  a  street  riot  a  French  officer  was  killed.  The 
question,  "  What  are  the  French  here  for  if  not  to 
fight?  "  was  repeatedly  put,  not  alone  in  the  Massachu- 
setts city  but  throughout  the  colonies.  The  Boston 
riot  was  paralleled  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and 
the  ink  was  hardly  dry  on  the  treaty  of  alliance  when  an 
anti-French  sentiment  sprung  up,  bred  almost  wholly  of 
D'Estaing's  inactivity  and  avoidance  of  actual  battle. 
He  did  participate  in  a  dashing  though  futile  assault 
upon  the  British  at  Savannah,  but  in  November  took 
his  fleet  to  the  West  Indies.  This  last  move  ended 
D'Estaing's  standing  with  the  American  people.  The 
French  fleet  was  as  loudly  cursed  as  once  it  had  been 
prayed  for,  and  no  allowance  was  made  for  the  fact 
that  its  attack  upon  the  British  West  Indian  posses- 
sions forced  Clinton  to  send  five  thousand  of  his 
troops  thither,  and  diverted  for  the  time  the  attention 
of  the  British  Ministry  from  the  American  colonies. 

The  British  now  held  only  Newport  and  New  York 
on  the  Atlantic  coast.  Away  from  the  protection  of 
their  fleets  they  were  powerless.  Out  in  the  Middle 
West  they  held  some  frontier  posts,  notably  that  at 
Detroit,  and  about  these  a  guerrilla  warfare  raged, 
the  combatants  being  mainly  Indians  spurred  on  by 
the  British,  and  American  settlers.  There  was  no  or- 
ganization, no  army  involved.  The  colonies  had  no 
strong  general  government  to  map  out  and  execute  a 
general  plan  of  defence,  while  the  only  tactics  of  the 
British  were  to  harass  the  settlers  in  western  New 
York,  Pennsylvania,  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  and  force 
them  back  from  the  lands  which  they  had  wrested 
from  the  forest,  and  upon  which  they  were  erecting 
the  commonwealths  of  to-day. 

In  northeastern  Pennsylvania  lies  a  fertile  valley, 
watered  by  the  broad,  swift  Susquehanna,  which  here 
thrusts  its  way  through  a  water  gap  in  the  mountains. 


130         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

In  1778,  this  valley,  known  as  the  Wyoming  Valley, 
was  filled  with  settlers  mainly  from  Connecticut,  for 
by  an  early  charter  the  region,  though  geographically 
part  of  Pennsylvania,  had  been  granted  to  Connecticut. 
About  three  thousand  people  were  there  in  all,  and  so 
overwhelmingly  on  the  side  of  the  Revolution,  that 
they  drove  from  their  midst  the  few  Tory  families 
who  dared  avow  their  royalist  convictions.  The  ex- 
pelled ones  carried  their  grievances  to  the  Tory, 
Colonel  John  Butler,  at  Fort  Niagara.  With  a  martial 
force,  composed  partly  of  Indians,  he  descended  the 
swift  flowing  Susquehanna  in  canoes,  and  before  the 
settlers  had  time  to  feel  alarm  the  red  terror  was 
upon  them.  The  vale  had  shielded  a  community  of 
peaceful  New  England  farmers,  whose  white  church 
spires  marked  every  little  hamlet,  while  the  well  or- 
dered fields  and  neat  groups  of  farm  buildings  told  of 
thrift  and  resultant  prosperity.  But  now  murder  and 
pillage  were  the  fate  of  the  valley  people.  The  torch 
was  set  to  the  white  hamlets;  the  tomahawk  and  the 
scalping  knife  were  plied,  that  the  authority  of  King 
George  might  be  reestablished.  Three  hundred  farm- 
ers, hastily  mustered,  went  out  to  resist  the  enemy, 
while  the  women  and  children  were  gathered  in  a 
blockhouse.  But  the  defensive  force  was  swept  away 
and  nearly  all  its  members  slain,  for  the  enemy  had 
more  than  twelve  hundred  men  and  his  method  was 
massacre.  The  women  fled  from  the  blockhouse  but 
scores  were  overtaken,  tortured  and  slain.  In  one 
dark  swampy  spot,  known  ever  since  as  the  "  Shades 
of  Death,"  a  hundred  women  and  children  are  said 
to  have  perished  of  starvation  and  fatigue.  The  men 
taken  captive  were  put  to  the  torture.  Burning  at 
the  stake,  or  being  held  down  with  pitchforks  upon 
glowing  coals  were  forms  of  death  mercifully  swift  in 
comparison  to  being  cut  to  pieces  by  ingeniously  de- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       131 

vised  gashes  that  produced  the  longest  period  of  agony 
before  death  brought  relief. 

The  massacre  of  Wyoming  was  long  held  in  the 
memory  of  Americans.  Books,  poems,  and  plays 
were  written  about  it,  and  its  ghastly  incidents  were 
made  more  horrible  by  a  wholly  needless  exaggeration. 
It  had  much  to  do  with  the  persistent  hatred  of  Great 
Britain,  which  existed  in  the  United  States  even  into 
the  Twentieth  Century,  for  though  the  atrocities  of  the 
valley  were  typically  Indian,  the  savages  were  under 
command  of  Colonel  John  Butler  and  constituted  less 
than  half  of  his  force. 

Another  sanguinary  figure  of  that  time  of  Indian 
warfare,  a  figure  perplexing  for  its  contradictory  quali- 
ties was  Joseph  Brant,  a  pure-blooded  Mohawk,  whose 
sister  was  one  of  the  Indian  "  wives  **  of  the  Tory 
leader  in  the  Mohawk  Valley,  Sir  William  Johnson. 
In  his  tribe  Brant's  name  was  Thayendanegea.  He  was 
taught  by  the  braves  the  use  of  the  ambush,  the  toma- 
hawk, and  the  scalping-knife ;  while  in  a  Connecticut 
school,  which  later  became  Dartmouth  College,  he 
learned  to  speak  and  write  English  with  elegance  and 
vigor.  He  translated  the  English  Book  of  Common 
Prayer  into  his  native  tongue,  and  became  for  a  time 
an  Episcopal  missionary  among  his  people;  yet  on 
occasion  his  warwhoop  rang  loudest  upon  the  bloody 
field  and  his  acute  mind  excelled  all  others  in  devising 
cunning  expedients  for  entrapping  an  adversary  to  his 
doom.  He  visited  England  after  the  war,  associated 
with  men  of  cultivation  on  an  equal  plane  and  on  his 
return  built  the  first  Episcopal  church  ever  erected  in 
Canada;  but  he  nevertheless  planned  the  massacre  of 
Cherry  Valley,  in  which  a  village  was  wholly  destroyed 
by  the  torch  and  every  one  of  its  fifty  inhabitants  slain 
or  put  to  the  torture  without  regard  to  sex. 

These  bloody  successes  of  the  Indians  and  Tories 


132         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

had  been  won  against  unorganized  farmers,  but  their 
sufferings  and  blood  cried  loud  for  vengeance  and 
Washington  detached  five  hundred  men  from  his  army 
in  1779,  and  sent  them  to  lay  waste  the  country  of  the 
Iroquois,  and  to  destroy  the  nest  of  the  Tories  at 
Fort  Niagara. 

In  two  columns  the  army  advanced  up  the  valleys 
of  the  Susquehanna  and  Mohawk  rivers,  meeting  at 
Tioga,  New  York.  On  the  site  of  Elmira,  they  admin- 
istered a  crushing  defeat  to  the  Tories  and  Indians, 
which  they  followed  up  by  wholly  devastating  the 
country  of  the  Iroquois.  That  tribe  had  advanced 
beyond  the  merely  nomadic  state  and  had  become  til- 
lers of  the  soil  and  builders  of  villages.  All  their 
evidences  of  progress  were  swept  away,  more  than 
forty  villages  burned  and  their  fields  laid  waste.  A 
bitter  winter  following  so  completed  the  ruin  of  the 
tribes  that  made  up  the  famous  League  of  the  Iro- 
quois that  they  never  recovered.  Yet  they  were  not 
annihilated  and  for  two  years  the  Mohawk  Valley 
was  the  scene  of  Indian  raids,  so  ruthless  and  san- 
guinary, that  the  farmer's  grasp  turned  naturally  from 
the  plow  to  the  rifle,  while  the  bay  of  a  hound  or  the 
distant  lowing  of  cattle  smote  like  a  warwhoop  on 
ears,  ever  tense  for  sounds  of  alarm. 

South  of  the  Ohio  River,  the  settlers  in  Kentucky 
had  for  years  suffered  cruelly  from  continuous  Indian 
warfare,  for  which,  to  some  extent,  their  own  aggres- 
sions were  to  blame.  The  wanton  murder  of  the 
family  of  Logan,  a  high-minded  and  friendly  Indian 
chief,  had  added  fuel  to  the  flames  of  strife  that  gave 
to  Kentucky  the  sinister  appellation,  "  the  dark  and 
bloody  ground."  Though  the  British  commandant 
at  Detroit — "  Hair-buying  Hamilton  "  he  was  called, 
because  of  his  bloody  traffic  with  the  Indians — had 
been  chiefly  active  in  fomenting  the  war  in  New  York 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       133 

and  Pennsylvania,  he  had  nevertheless  done  enough  in 
Kentucky  to  awaken  the  resentment  of  the  sturdy  peo- 
ple of  that  state,  one  of  whom  determined  upon 
reprisals. 

At  that  time  Illinois,  Indiana,  and  Michigan  were 
a  true  international  frontier.  All  were  claimed  and 
held  by  the  British  or  by  the  revolting  Colonists,  but 
the  population  was  largely  French,  while  beyond  the 
Mississippi  lay  Spanish  territory  with  a  Spanish  com- 
mandant at  St.  Louis.  At  Kaskaskia,  a  now  vanished 
village  of  Illinois,  once  its  capital,  was  the  seat  of 
British  power,  maintained  by  a  small  garrison.  Most 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  were  French.  At  Vin- 
cennes,  now  in  the  state  of  Indiana,  was  another  Brit- 
ish garrison,  surrounded  by  a  population  of  Frenchmen. 

A  young  land  surveyor,  George  Rogers  Clark,  fol- 
lowing his  calling  in  the  settlements  along  the  Ohio 
River,  learned  that  the  garrisons  at  Kaskaskia  and 
Vincennes  had  been  much  reduced  by  sending  their 
troops  to  Detroit.  When  he  heard  of  the  surrender 
of  Burgoyne,  he  suddenly  conceived  the  idea  of  taking 
all  this  territory  out  of  British  control.  Without 
awaiting  authority  he  sent  spies  throughout  the  land, 
and  armed  with  their  reports,  collected  a  force  of 
about  two  hundred  men  with  some  light  artillery,  at 
Pittsburgh.  No  one  but  Clark  himself  knew  his 
purpose.  In  May,  of  1778,  his  little  expedition  rowed 
down  the  Ohio  to  its  mouth,  a  distance  of  a  thousand 
miles.  Through  forests  and  across  prairies  he  led 
his  men  swiftly,  until  he  came  within  three  miles  of 
the  town.  There  he  learned  that  the  garrison  had  no 
suspicion  of  any  impending  danger.  At  nightfall  he 
divided  his  little  force  into  two  divisons  and  slipped 
quietly  up  to  the  fort.  So  careless  was  the  watch  that 
Clark,  preceding  his  men,  walked  through  the  postern 
gate  and  into  the  stockade.     From  a  brightly  lighted 


134         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

building  came  the  merry  sound  of  fiddles  and  the 
shuffling  of  dancing  feet.  Quietly  Clark  crept  to 
the  door,  opened  it  and  stood  within,  his  arms  folded, 
silent,  solitary.  No  one  for  a  moment  noticed  the 
strange  figure  in  buckskins  and  the  dance  went  gaily  on. 
Then  an  Indian,  suddenly  sensing  the  presence  of  a 
stranger,  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  warwhoop,  and  all 
turned  in  alarm.  Before  any  could  strike  Clark  told 
them  that  his  men — whose  triumphant  shouts  could  be 
heard — had  captured  the  fort  without  bloodshed  and 
that  the  dance  might  just  as  well  go  on.  The  military 
officers  were  at  once  seized  but  the  people,  who  were 
more  French  than  English,  accepted  the  sudden  change 
in  sovereignty  with  indifference  or  perhaps  satisfaction. 
Cahokia  and  Vincennes  also  surrendered  to  his  mes- 
sengers, though  he  had  no  troops  with  which  to 
garrison  either  place. 

Hamilton  heard  the  news  at  Detroit  with  natural 
resentment.  Sending  out  men  first  to  stir  up  the  In- 
dians, he  marched  on  Vincennes  with  five  hundred 
English,  French,  and  Indians.  There  was  an  Ameri- 
can commandant  there  but  no  garrison,  hence  the 
town  was  taken  without  trouble — its  French  inhabi- 
tants caring  little  which  flag  flew  since  their  own  could 
not.  Happily  the  ease  of  his  first  conquest  did  not 
spur  Hamilton  on  to  proceeding  against  Clark  at  Kas- 
kaskia.  The  way  was  long,  the  winter  coming  on 
apace.  Accordingly,  he  sent  most  of  his  men  back 
to  Detroit,  and  settled  down  to  winter  in  Vincennes. 
This  comfortable  project,  however,  was  interrupted 
by  Clark  who,  when  he  found  that  Hamilton  would 
not  attack  him,  determined  to  do  the  attacking  himself. 
With  1 80  men  he  made  one  of  the  most  thrill- 
ing marches  in  the  history  of  war — a  march  on 
which  Stonewall  Jackson  himself  might  have  looked 
with  admiration  and  envy.     It  was  240  miles  from 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       135 

Kiaskaskia  to  Vinceinnes.  The  time  was  February, 
and  the  country  lay  deep  under  the  snows  of  winter. 
But  the  cold  and  the  snow  were  better  than  what  fol- 
lowed. For  after  a  week  of  not  uncomfortable 
progress  through  the  wilderness,  with  plenty  of  game 
and  roaring  campfires  at  night,  a  sudden  thaw  set  in. 
The  rivers  of  that  region  were  then  as  they  are  now, 
subject  to  sudden  rises,  and  when  they  came  to  the 
Wabash,  which  they  had  thought  to  cross  upon  the 
ice,  they  found  that  with  its  branches  it  was  now  a 
rushing  river  five  miles  wide.  With  notable  foresight 
Clark  had  brought  boats  along  and  in  three  days  had 
his  entire  force  ferried  across.  But  presently,  there- 
after, they  came  upon  land  so  flooded  as  to  require 
wading,  but  not  deeply  enough  to  permit  the  use  of 
the  canoes.  Cakes  of  ice  floated  on  the  turbid  stream, 
and  the  air  above  froze  stiff  the  sodden  clothing  of 
the  men  when  they  had  reached  dry  land.  Through 
four  miles  of  this  sort  of  travelling  the  men  marched 
doggedly,  Clark  at  their  head  singing,  shouting  the 
warwhoop,  and  employing  every  device  to  encourage 
them  to  press  on.  Lest  encouragement  should  not 
suffice,  twenty-five  were  told  off  as  a  rear  guard  with 
orders  to  shoot  any  who  strove  to  turn  back.  This 
duty  was  not,  however,  required  of  them. 

Notwithstanding  its  difficulties,  the  march  had  been 
made  so  expeditiously  and  secretly  that  Vincennes 
might  have  been  surprised  as  Kaskaskia  had  been. 
But  Clark  learned  from  a  hunter,  whom  he  had  cap- 
tured, that  two  hundred  Indians  had  just  arrived  in 
the  town,  which  gave  Hamilton  a  marked  advantage 
in  point  of  numbers.  He  reckoned  that  the  popula- 
tion of  the  town  being  mostly  French  would,  if  attacked 
without  warning,  make  common  cause  with  the  British 
and  Indians  and  fight  for  the  defence  of  their  homes; 
while  if  a  summons  to  surrender  were  presented  they 


136         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

would  remain  neutral.  Accordingly,  the  summons 
was  sent,  and  while  awaiting  an  answer  a  scalp-hunt- 
ing party  of  Indians,  sent  out  by  Hamilton,  blundered 
into  the  American  camp  and  were  all  killed,  not  as 
hostile  soldiers,  but  as  savages  and  murderers.  A  day 
later  Hamilton  with  his  force  surrendered.  The 
power  of  the  British  in  that  section  was  permanently 
shattered,  and  the  chief  scalp-hunter  had  no  longer 
an  opportunity  to  press  his  peculiar  calling. 

Few  men  have  done  more  to  permanently  affect  the 
course  of  our  national  development,  and  few  have  won 
smaller  fame  by  their  patriotic  efforts  than  George 
Rogers  Clark.  As  a  civilian  he  planned  and  executed 
the  campaign  which  held  for  the  Americans  the  coun- 
try north  of  the  Ohio  River,  and  having  done  his  deed, 
returned  to  civil  life  and  virtual  obscurity. 

Southern  writers  and  students  of  history  have  often 
complained  that  the  histories  of  the  Revolution  have 
usually  given  but  scant  attention  to  the  military  opera- 
tions and  the  battles  in  the  Southern  colonies.  They 
have  been  accustomed  to  ascribe  this  neglect  to  the 
fact  that  the  historians  have  been  in  the  main  Northern 
men — New  Englanders,  indeed,  in  great  numbers — 
and  impute  to  them  an  inclination  to  underestimate  the 
part  of  the  South  in  the  War  for  Independence.  But 
the'  fact  is  rather  that  the  operations  in  the  Southern 
colonies  were  at  no  time — except  in  the  final  campaign 
which  culminated  with  Yorktown  and  victory — con- 
ducted in  accordance  with  any  definite  plan  of 
campaign  on  the  part  of  either  the  British  or  the  Colo- 
nials. The  operations  south  of  the  Potomac  were  at 
no  time  so  dramatic,  or  so  full  of  importance  to  the 
cause  of  liberty  as  Washington's  prolonged  struggle 
against  British  conquest  in  the  North. 

Charleston,  South  Carolina,  before  the  Declaration 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       137 

of  Independence,  that  is,  in  June,  1776,  had  beaten  off 
a  British  naval  attack,  under  Admiral  Parker,  and  an 
assault  of  more  than  three  thousand  British  regulars 
under  General  Clinton.  Every  American  school-boy 
knows  the  story  of  Fort  Moultrie — how  it  was  built 
of  palmetto  logs  at  which  the  engineers  scoffed  but 
which,  by  their  soft  and  spongy  texture,  stopped  the 
cannon  balls  without  splitting.  And  the  figure  of  Ser- 
geant Jasper,  springing  to  the  rampart,  seizing  the 
flag  which  had  been  shot  away  and  waving  it  from  his 
sponge-staff,  is  one  of  the  classics  of  American  history. 
After  this  triumph  the  Southern  colonies  had  been  left 
in  peace  until  the  autumn  of  1778,  when  British  troops, 
making  their  base  in  the  Spanish  territory  of  Florida, 
began  desultory  raids  into  Georgia.  Plantation  homes 
were  burned,  fields  laid  waste,  and  slaves  carried  off  to 
be  sold  anew  into  slavery  for  the  profit  of  their  cap- 
tors. Savannah  was  captured  after  a  brief  defence, 
and  with  that  city  as  a  base,  the  British  set  about  the 
subjection  of  Georgia  and  South  Carolina.  The  Brit- 
ish Ministry  planned  to  conduct  the  war  in  this  territory 
as  they  were  prosecuting  it  in  the  Northwest — with  the 
aid  of  Tories  and  Indians,  and  by  the  savage  methods 
of  raids  and  massacres,  rather  than  by  campaigns  of 
organized  and  disciplined  troops.  They  had  not 
heard  of  the  complete  overthrow  of  their  scalp-hunting 
Colonel  Hamilton  at  Vincennes,  nor  of  the  vigorous 
fashion  in  which  Washington  had  avenged  the  victims 
of  the  Wyoming  massacre.  Accordingly,  they  planned 
for  the  South  all  the  barbarities  they  had  committed 
in  the  Northwest. 

The  outlook  there  for  the  Patriot  cause  was  not 
promising.  Georgia  was  but  sparsely  populated — in 
many  ways  the  weakest  of  the  colonies.  South  Caro- 
lina was  full  of  Tories,  and  her  slaves  were  in  a  chronic 
state   of   discontent,   which  kept   the   small   and   ill- 


138         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

ordered  militia  fully  engaged  in  putting  down  incipient 
servile  revolts.  Fighting  began  early  between  the  Con- 
tinentals and  the  Loyalists.  A  party  of  seven  hundred 
Loyalists  from  North  Carolina,  marching  to  join  the 
British  at  Savannah,  were  encountered  by  a  smaller 
body  of  Patriots  under  Colonel  Andrew  Pickens,  and 
put  to  flight.  About  half  their  number  were  captured 
and  were  straightway  put  on  trial  for  their  lives,  on  a 
charge  of  treason.  Five  were  found  guilty  and 
hanged.  This  action,  in  view  of  the  tone  of  the  Brit- 
ish proclamations  outlawing  all  Patriots  taken  in  arms, 
was  perhaps  legitimate,  but  nevertheless  unwise  and 
barbarous.  Naturally,  it  led  to  immediate  reprisals. 
The  British  commander  at  Augusta,  one  Colonel 
Thomas  Browne,  had  in  his  possession  some  Patriot 
prisoners,  of  whom  he  at  once  hanged  several.  Thus 
he  not  only  avenged  the  deaths  of  the  North  Caro- 
linians, but  gratified  a  personal  rancor,  for  at  the 
outbreak  of  hostilities  the  Colonists  had  applied  to  him 
a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers,  the  recollection  of  which 
long  rankled  within  his  breast.  From  that  time  on, 
however,  the  neighborhood  war  in  the  South  was  sav- 
age and  cruel. 

At  the  close  of  1778,  General  Lincoln,  who  had  been 
distinguished  in  the  Saratoga  campaign,  was  sent  to 
take  command  of  the  Patriot  armies  in  the  South. 
With  him  appears  first  that  name  so  venerable  in  our 
national  annals.  Establishing  himself  in  Charleston, 
he  gathered  a  considerable  force  and  set  about  driv- 
ing the  British  out  of  Georgia.  General  Prevost,  his 
antagonist,  was  quite  his  match  in  military  skill  and 
energy.  When  Lincoln,  leaving  Moultrie  with  about 
one  thousand  men  to  guard  Charleston,  set  out  on  a 
campaign  against  the  British  at  Augusta,  General  Pre- 
vost let  him  get  fairly  out  of  the  way,  and  then  with 
three  thousand  men  marched  out  of  Savannah  and 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       139 

turned  his  steps  toward  Charleston.  There  was  no- 
body to  offer  any  effective  resistance.  In  the  most 
leisurely  fashion,  and  with  practically  no  losses,  the 
British  column  swept  along  through  a  rich  and  thickly 
settled  region.  Plantations  were  ravaged  and  laid  waste ; 
mansions  were  sacked  and  burned,  silver  plate  and 
movable  valuables  were  carried  off  by  the  cart-load, 
and  all  else  cut  to  pieces  or  otherwise  ruined.  So 
savage  and  wanton  was  the  British  conduct  that  trees 
were  girdled  and  cattle  and  horses  that  could  not  be 
taken  away  were  killed.  A  band  of  Cherokees  formed 
part  of  the  expeditionary  force  and  the  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife  were  employed  on  the  helpless  of 
every  age  and  both  sexes.  More  than  one  thousand 
slaves  are  believed  to  have  perished  from  starvation 
or  violence. 

Reaching  Charleston  about  the  middle  of  May,  Pre- 
vost  sent  in  a  summons  to  surrender.  The  defenders 
were  at  the  moment  torn  by  internal  dissensions.  Col- 
onel Moultrie,  in  command,  was  a  brave  and  devoted 
officer,  but  he  had  subject  to  him  a  force  wholly  inade- 
quate to  oppose  the  British,  while  little  reliance  could 
be  placed  upon  the  inhabitants  or  the  civil  authorities, 
because  of  a  new  problem  which  at  that  most  unfortu- 
nate moment  had  been  sprung  upon  them.  For  long 
years  the  South  Carolinians  had  lived  in  some  dread 
of  their  slaves.  The  friendly,  almost  affectionate  rela- 
tions, which  subsisted  between  the  Virginians  and  their 
blacks  had  for  some  reason  never  obtained  in  the  Pal- 
metto state.  There  the  slaves  were  held  subject  with 
an  iron  hand,  never  cloaked  with  the  velvet  glove. 
Indeed  the  militia  of  the  colony  was  so  constantly  en- 
gaged in  guarding  against  an  African  uprising,  that 
South  Carolina  had  been  able  to  contribute  but  little 
to  the  Continental  army  that  fought  under  Washing- 
ton.    Henry  Laurens,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 


I40         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

citizens  of  that  state,  had  nevertheless  urged  the  bold 
plan  of  selecting  a  number  of  brave,  stalwart,  and 
trustworthy  negroes,  and  enrolling  them  in  the  army, 
under  white  officers.  His  son,  who  was  an  officer  on 
Washington's  staff,  urged  the  project  upon  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, who  sternly  discouraged  it.  Hamil- 
ton, however,  warmly  approved  it,  and  in  the  end, 
Congress  recommended  it  to  the  consideration  of  the 
people  of  South  Carolina.  The  younger  Laurens, 
bearing  this  message  from  Congress,  arrived  in  Charles- 
ton almost  simultaneously  with  Prevost's  peremptory 
summons  to  surrender. 

The  people  of  the  city  were  in  a  rage.  They  had 
been  hoping  for  aid  from  Congress  and  received  in- 
stead advice  to  arm  the  slaves,  whom,  for  a  century, 
they  had  systematically  stripped  of  every  knife,  pistol, 
or  gun  that  could  be  found.  They  wondered  whether 
their  greater  foe  was  the  British  thundering  at  their 
gates  or  the  theorists  sitting  at  Philadelphia.  The 
South  Carolinians,  then  as  in  1861,  or  indeed  to-day, 
were  bitterly  intolerant  of  any  effort  of  Congress  to 
solve  their  eternal  question  of  the  relation  between  the 
races.  Some  in  a  rage  were  for  surrendering  to  the 
British.  The  utmost  that  Moultrie  could  coax  them  into 
doing  was  to  send  a  flag  of  truce  to  Prevost,  suggesting 
that  South  Carolina  would  remain  wholly  neutral  until 
the  end  of  the  war,  and  then  decide  her  course  by  ballot 
and  by  treaty.  The  British  general  contemptuously 
refused  even  to  listen  to  the  representations  of  civil- 
ians, but  curtly  announced  to  Moultrie,  as  military 
commandant,  that  he  would  consider  no  terms  but 
unconditional  surrender. 

Moultrie's  fighting  blood  was  afire  in  an  instant, 
and  he  prepared  for  defence.  Unknown  to  him,  how- 
ever, fate  was  shaping  events  to  his  advantage. 
Lincoln  had  heard  of  Prevost's  movement  and,  aban- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       141 

cloning  his  advance  on  Augusta,  returned  hastily  and 
the  British  suddenly  abandoned  the  siege  and  returned 
to  Savannah.  But  with  all  the  marching  and  counter- 
marching, the  enemy  was  left  in  undisturbed  possession 
of  Georgia. 

That  possession  was  destined  to  be  menaced  in  a 
most  unexpected  way.  D'Estaing,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, left  Boston  after  an  exceedingly  unpleasant  visit 
there  and  took  his  fleet  to  the  West  Indies  to  harry  the 
British  possessions  and  commerce  there.  After  some 
successes  he  sailed  northward  again,  swooped  down  on 
a  British  fleet,  hovering  off  the  mouth  of  the  Savannah 
River,  and  captured  four  ships.  Elated  with  this  suc- 
cess he  thought  of  capturing  Savannah,  and  wrote  to 
the  government  of  South  Carolina,  asking  for  coopera- 
tion. In  September,  1779,  the  French  troops  from 
the  fleet,  in  cooperation  with  Lincoln's  forces,  began 
a  systematic  siege  of  the  city,  which  was  stubbornly 
defended  by  Prevost  who,  throughout  the  war  in  the 
South,  showed  himself  a  gallant  and  a  resourceful 
soldier,  though  his  name  was  tarnished  by  the  atroci- 
ties committed  by  his  soldiers.  Wearying  of  the 
slow  progress  of  the  siege,  and  fearing  lest  the  autum- 
nal storms  might  work  havoc  upon  his  fleet  in  the 
insufficient  anchorage  at  the  mouth  of  the  Savannah, 
D'Estaing  persuaded  Lincoln  to  join  in  an  effort  to 
carry  the  town  by  assault.  The  attack,  made  on  the 
9th  of  October,  failed  utterly,  though  it  was  delivered 
with  the  utmost  gallantry.  Though  the  lilies  of 
France  and  the  stars  and  stripes  of  the  Americans 
were  planted  upon  the  redoubt,  the  assailants  were 
unable  to  maintain  their  lodgment.  D'Estaing  was 
twice  wounded.  The  Count  Pulaski,  one  of  the  most 
gallant  of  the  young  noblemen  who  had  crossed  the 
ocean  to  serve  the  cause  of  liberty,  was  slain.  Six 
hundred  of  the  French  and  two  hundred  Americans 


142         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

were  lost.  The  British  loss  was  slight  and  when  the 
battle  was  ended,  their  hold  upon  Savannah  had  not 
been  shaken.  A  few  days  later  D'Estaing  sailed 
away,  never  to  appear  again  in  the  war.  Both  of  his 
efforts  at  cooperation  with  the  American  forces  had 
ended  in  disaster. 

Georgia  was  now  merely  a  conquered  province  and 
was  so  treated  by  the  conquerors.  Every  planter  sus- 
pected of  favoring  the  Revolution  suffered.  Pillage 
and  murder  were  common.  Slaves  were  seized  and 
sold — seized  and  sold  again.  Secure  in  Georgia,  the 
British  determined  to  subdue  South  Carolina  next. 
The  first  step  was  to  take  Charleston,  then  held  by 
Lincoln  with  but  two  thousand  men.  Clinton,  by 
abandoning  Rhode  Island,  which  had  ceased  to  be  of 
importance,  was  able  to  take  8,500  men  to  sea  on 
Arbuthnot's  fleet,  and  on  reaching  Tybee  Island,  at 
the  mouth  of  Charleston  harbor,  he  was  joined  by 
Prevost,  who  raised  his  force  to  ten  thousand.  On 
looking  the  field  over,  he  sent  back  to  New  York  for 
three  thousand  more  men.  Lincoln  had  in  all  but 
three  thousand  men,  and  it  would  have  been  well  had 
he  abandoned  the  city.  Charleston  is  a  veritable  trap 
for  an  occupying  army,  and  into  that  trap  Lincoln 
gathered  all  the  troops  he  could  secure,  while  the 
British  fleet  ran  past  Fort  Moultrie  into  the  harbor, 
and  the  British  troops  threw  up  works  on  every  side 
and  blocked  every  possible  pathway  of  escape.  To 
sustain  an  assault  would  be  mere  wanton  waste  of 
life,  and  on  May  12  Lincoln  surrendered.  Three 
thousand  men  were  lost  to  the  Continental  army,  and 
South  Carolina  joined  Georgia  in  the  list  of  subjugated 
colonies.  "  We  look  on  America  as  at  our  feet,"  said 
Horace  Walpole. 

Perhaps  the  two  colonies  might  have  lain  thus  prone 
until  the  end  of  the  war,  had  the  policy  of  the  con- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       143 

querors  been  one  of  pacification.  But  instead,  the 
victors  applied  the  lash  until  the  victims,  in  very  de- 
spair, revolted.  Expeditions  were  sent  in  every 
direction  to  put  down  any  armed  opposition  and  to 
suppress  any  signs  of  resentment.  The  people  were 
offered  the  choice  between  taking  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance, or  being  treated  as  rebels  and  subjected  to  the 
severest  penalties  of  the  law.  Those  who  chose  the 
latter  suffered  confiscation,  ruin  and  death.  No  neu- 
trality was  recognized,  and  very  quickly  the  South 
Carolinian  who  could  not  reconcile  it  with  his  con- 
science to  fight  for  the  King,  recognized  that  unless  he 
wanted  to  die  he  must  fight  against  that  monarch. 
Accordingly,  the  country-side  was  soon  in  arms  and  a 
guerrilla  warfare  begun,  of  which  the  British  by  no 
means  got  the  best. 

This  spluttering  warfare  of  hasty  raids  and  swift 
retreats,  of  lurking  places  in  dense  forests  and  rocky 
dens  bred  some  hardy  and  dashing  characters,  who 
were  long  heroes  to  American  boys.  Chief  of  these 
was  Marion,  the  "  Swamp  Fox,"  of  whom  Bryant 
wrote : 

"The   British    soldier    trembles 
When  Marion's  name  is  told." 

When  the  poet's  collected  works  came  to  be  repub- 
lished in  England,  however,  a  prudent  publisher  edited 
the  line  to  read,  u  The  foeman  trembles  in  his  lair," 
which  serves  to  show  that  while  war  may  ennoble 
the  muse,  peace  and  the  prospect  of  profits  humbles 
her. 

Francis  Marion  was  of  French  Huguenot  descent. 
He  had  served  in  the  French  and  Indian  war,  and 
plunged  into  the  Revolution  in  its  very  first  days.  A 
planter  and  a  man  of  substance,  he  threw  all  aside  to 
serve  his  country.     In  a  war   characterized  by  wanton 


i44         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

cruelty  and  even  savagery  on  both  sides,  he  restrained 
his  men  from  the  commission  of  excesses.  "  Never 
shall  a  house  be  burned  by  one  of  my  people,"  he 
said.  "  To  distress  poor  women  and  children  is  what 
I  detest."  This  was  his  attitude  during  a  campaign, 
the  cruelties  of  which  led  Lord  Cornwallis,  a  man  of 
restrained  speech  and  just  temperament,  to  speak  of 
"  the  shocking  tortures  and  inhuman  murders  which 
are  every  day  committed  by  the  enemy."  The  Brit- 
ish general  was  careful  to  confine  his  reference  to  the 
misdeeds  of  the  Americans.  He  made  no  reference  to 
Colonel  Tarleton's  massacre  of  prisoners  at  Waxhaw. 
Nor  did  he  comment  on  the  British  practice  of  destroy- 
ing the  property  of  all  who  were  associated  with  the 
Patriot  cause.  Sometimes — generally,  in  fact — this 
practice  did  the  British  cause  more  harm  than  good, 
as  in  the  instance  of  Thomas  Sumter,  who  saw  his  wife 
and  children  turned  out  into  the  cold,  and  his  roof-tree 
ablaze,  while  British  troops  plundered  his  house.  Sum- 
ter became  like  Marion,  a  partisan  ranger.  With 
small  bodies  of  followers,  numbering  at  times  from 
twenty  to  seventy,  these  men  would  dash  here  and 
there,  sweeping  away  British  outposts,  cutting  British 
columns  in  twain  and  harassing  the  enemy  at  every 
pomt  in  every  way.  They  were  ill-armed.  Marion 
took  saws  from  the  country  saw  mills  and  had  them 
beaten  into  swords,  while  pewter  bowls  and  spoons 
were  melted  up  to  make  bullets.  They  were  ill-disci- 
plined, for  any  who  tired  of  warfare  would  quit  the 
ranks  for  a  stay  at  home,  rejoining  when  they  craved 
excitement  anew.  But  they  were  admirably  led  by 
leaders  who  knew  no  fear,  and  threaded  the  country 
roads  and  mountain  paths  with  the  assured  certainty 
of  long  acquaintance.  They  lived  on  the  country, 
needing  neither  tents  nor  baggage  trains.  And  they 
kept  alive  the  spirit  of  revolution  at  a  time  when  Corn- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       145 

wallis  wrote,  "But  for  Sumter  and  Marion,  South 
Carolina  would  be  at  peace." 

Washington,  however,  had  no  intention  of  leaving 
the  South  to  the  zeal  of  the  partisan  leaders  alone,  and 
in  June  dispatched  Baron  De  Kalb  with  a  force  of 
about  two  thousand  men  southward.  As  he  pro- 
ceeded, his  force  was  increasing  gradually.  Sumter 
and  Marion  both  joined  him.  But  before  the  South 
Carolina  line  was  reached,  Congress  sent  down  to  com- 
mand the  army  General  Gates,  who  had  enjoyed  the 
glory  of  receiving  the  sword  of  Burgoyne,  though  he 
bore  little  part  in  the  events  that  compelled  that  gen- 
eral's surrender.  Washington  had  wished  to  give  the 
command  of  the  southern  army  to  Greene,  whom  he 
esteemed  his  ablest  general — an  estimate  which  history 
has  thoroughly  confirmed.  But  Congress,  with  which 
body  Gates  had  always  been  popular,  he  being  one 
of  those  political  generals  common  in  our  later  wars, 
insisted  that  the  beneficiary,  if  not  the  hero,  of  Sara- 
toga, should  be  given  the  command.  Though  living 
in  retirement  on  his  Virginia  estate,  he  responded  with 
alacrity,  took  command  of  the  army  at  Hillsborough, 
North  Carolina,  on  the  19th  of  July,  and  within  thirty 
days  had  led  it  to  the  most  needless,  disastrous  and 
ignominious  defeat  sustained  by  any  American  troops 
during  the  Revolution.  When  he  set  out  to  take  his 
command,  his  friend,  Charles  Lee,  sulking  in  compul- 
sory retirement,  wrote  him,  "  Take  care  that  your 
Northern  laurels  do  not  change  into  Southern  willows," 
and  the  dismal  prophecy  was  most  thoroughly  fulfilled. 

The  defeat  of  Gates  was  the  culmination  of  a  series 
of  errors  of  judgment,  and  the  inevitable  result  of  an 
indifference  to  ordinary  military  precautions.  He 
found  his  army  ill-disciplined,  short  of  arms,  ammuni- 
tion, tents,  and  all  the  munitions  of  war.  The  enemy 
was  not  menacing  and  all  the  conditions  demanded  that 


i46         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

the  army  should  be  refitted  and  drilled  before  under- 
taking any  offensive  movement.  Instead  Gates  or- 
dered an  immediate  advance.  The  enemy  was  at 
Camden.  To  defeat  him  there  would  be  to  force  him 
back  to  Charleston,  leaving  the  Americans  in  control 
of  all  other  parts  of  South  Carolina.  The  point  of 
attack  was  well  chosen;  the  tactics  not  so  good.  Two 
roads  led  to  Camden.  One  was  160  miles  long, 
through  a  country  thickly  populated  with  friendly 
Whigs,  where  the  advancing  column  would  be  sure  to 
find  ample  provisions.  The  other  was  50  miles 
shorter,  but  through  a  barren  and  hostile  country. 
Gates  chose  the  latter.  He  saved  three  days  of 
marching,  but  wasted  two  on  arriving  in  the  enemy's 
front  through  indecision  as  to  his  plan  of  attack. 
His  men  arrived  weak  and  ailing  from  insufficient  food, 
but  their  sufferings  would  have  been  repaid  had  ad- 
vantage been  taken  of  the  time  saved,  and  an 
immediate  attack  made  upon  the  enemy,  who  was  then 
outnumbered,  and  ill-prepared  for  an  attack.  But 
Gates  hesitated,  until  Cornwallis  arrived  with  rein- 
forcements of  British  regulars.  It  appears  that  the 
American  general  knew  accurately  neither  his  own 
strength  nor  that  of  his  enemy,  for  he  was  confidently 
counting  on  7,000  men  under  his  own  command  and 
was  mightily  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had  but  a 
few  more  than  3,000.  The  news  derived  from 
prisoners  that  Cornwallis  had  as  many,  mostly  regu- 
lars, seemed  to  greatly  astonish  the  American  gen- 
eral. Even  at  that  he  let  Sumter  weaken  the  army 
by  going  with  800  men  to  capture  the  British 
wagon  train — an  enterprise  which  was  successfully 
conducted  but  was  barren  of  results  because  of  the 
defeat  of  the  main  American  army. 

Battle  was  brought  on  on  the  morning  of  the  15th  of 
August  by  the   simultaneous  determination  of  Corn- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       147 

wallis  and  Gates  to  surprise  each  other.  Stealthily 
creeping  forward,  the  hostile  armies  blundered  into 
contact,  and  the  woods  and  fields  were  at  once 
ablaze  with  musketry.  At  the  very  first  onset  the 
raw  militia  from  Virginia  and  North  Carolina  threw 
down  their  arms  and  fled.  CornwalHs  flung  against 
them  his  most  seasoned  regulars,  but  in  so  doing 
weakened  that  part  of  his  line  that  faced  the  veterans 
from  Washington's  army,  led  by  the  gigantic  De  Kalb. 
Here  the  fortune  of  war  so  favored  the  Americans 
that  De  Kalb  ordered  a  charge  and  was  sweeping  all 
before  him,  when  the  flight  of  the  American  militia 
left  the  whole  British  army,  save  Tarleton's  cavalry, 
which  was  pursuing  the  fugitives,  free  to  concentrate 
upon  him.  Born  down  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers, 
the  regulars  were  beaten,  but  not  routed.  De  Kalb, 
fighting  on  foot,  fell  dying  with  eleven  wounds.  His 
men  made  an  orderly  retreat,  but  the  militia  that  had 
made  up  the  left  wing,  fled  in  disorder  and  were  cut 
down  by  scores  by  Tarleton's  horsemen.  Gates  was 
caught  in  the  torrent  of  fugitives  and  seems  to  have 
made  little  effort  to  resist  it.  At  any  rate,  by  chang- 
ing horses,  he  beat  all  his  followers  to  Hillsborough, 
making  the  two  hundred  miles  in  a  headlong  flight  of 
four  days.  His  laurels  had  indeed  turned  to  willows. 
In  this  engagement,  the  American  loss  is  estimated 
at  one  thousand  killed  and  wounded,  with  as  many 
more  taken  prisoners.  Seven  pieces  of  artillery  and 
two  thousand  muskets  were  lost.  But  the  British  did 
not  win  the  day  without  loss.  De  Kalb's  seasoned 
troops  put  up  a  stubborn  resistance  and,  though  they 
lost  eight  hundred  men  in  the  fight,  inflicted  a  loss  of 
about  half  as  many  upon  the  enemy.  Few  and  badly 
organized  as  were  the  Continental  troops  of  that  day 
— the  progenitors  of  the  regular  army  of  to-day — 
they  never  failed  to  give  a  good  account  of  themselves 


148         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

in  battle  and  challenged  in  war  the  admiration  of  the 
people,  only  to  find  in  peace  that  the  immemorial 
English  dread  of  a  standing  army  was  too  strongly 
implanted  in  the  minds  of  the  people  to  be  eradicated 
by  deeds  of  valor  on  the  battle  field. 

It  so  happened,  however,  that  the  first  sharp  check 
administered  to  the  British,  now  that  their  power 
seemed  unshakable  in  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas, 
came  not  from  the  regular  forces  but  from  a  body  of 
mountaineers,  men  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  Revo- 
lution thus  far,  but  who,  finding  their  homes  and  their 
liberties  menaced,  girded  up  their  buckskins,  seized 
their  rifles,  and  descending  from  their  hillside  fast- 
nesses, dealt  Cornwallis  a  staggering  blow.  This 
done,  they  retired  again  to  figure  no  more  in  the  war. 

Across  the  northwestern  end  of  both  of  the  Caro- 
linas extends  a  rugged  range  of  mountains  in  which, 
since  the  earliest  days  of  the  white  settlement  of 
America,  there  has  lived  a  race  of  sturdy,  independent 
mountaineers,  somewhat  heedless  of  what  is  going  on 
in  other  parts  of  the  land,  but  tenacious  of  their  own 
rights,  and  ready  to  defend  them  by  their  own  valor 
without  appeal  to  law.  These  qualities  persist  in  the 
people  of  the  Blue  Ridge  to-day.  They  were  apparent 
in  the  revolutionary  days.  For  while  the  mountaineers 
took  little  interest  in  that  struggle  so  long  as  it  took 
only  the  form  of  a  contest  over  sovereignty,  they 
blazed  in  fierce  wrath  when  Patrick  Ferguson,  a  cav- 
alry leader,  whom  Cornwallis  had  commissioned  to 
uproot  and  eradicate  patriotic  sentiment  in  the  Caro- 
linas, sent  word  up  into  their  mountain  fastnesses  that 
he  would  extend  his  raids  thither  and  destroy  their 
villages  if  they  sent  aid  to  the  Colonists  fighting  for 
self-government  along  the  sea  coast.  The  men  to 
whom  this  message  was  sent  were  not  accustomed  to 
take  orders  or  to  listen  to  threats.     They  were  pio- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       149 

neers   of   the   Boone,   Logan,   and  Clark  type,   who 
swung  the  axe  and  held  the  plow  when  possible,  but 
were  ready  enough  to  turn  from  them  to  the  rifle,  as 
need  arose.     They  had  sustained  the  shock  of  Indian 
raids,  and  had  wrested  their  lands  from  a  foe  more 
cunning  and  quite  as  brave  as  Ferguson's  raiders,  and 
they  were  in  no  mood  to  endure  menace  or  receive 
commands  from  any  source.     There  is  an  old  adage 
about  the  wisdom  of  letting  sleeping  dogs  lie  and  it 
would  have  been  well  for  Ferguson  had  he  observed  it. 
In  the  mountains  two  men  were  all-powerful,  be- 
cause of  their  capacity  for  initiative,  their  popularity 
and  their  knowledge  of  the  art  of  frontier  war.     Isaac 
Shelby  heard  first  the  news  of  Ferguson's  threats  and 
rode  through  the  passes  to  consult  John  Sevier.     At 
the  latter's  place  he  found  a  festival  in  progress  with 
the  three  frontier  amusements — a  barbecue,  a  horse 
race  and  hard  drinking — going  on.     In  the  midst  of 
the  festivities,  the  mountaineers  listened  to   Shelby's 
story   and   agreed   that   after   a   reasonable   time   for 
the  completion  of  their  spree,  they  would  join  in  driv- 
ing Ferguson  away  from  their  threshold.     Word  was 
also  sent  to  people  in  the  nearby  Virginia  mountains, 
and  soon  there  gathered  at  a  fixed  rendezvous  about 
twelve  hundred  men  from  the  three  colonies.     It  was 
a  unique  fighting  force.     Clad  in  buckskin  with  fringed 
leggings  and  tasselled  caps,  carrying  long  rifles  and 
keen  hunting  knives,  taciturn  of  speech  and  swift  with 
a  shot  or  a  knife-thrust,  they  were  fighting  men  from 
youth.     There  were  no  commissary  wagons,  no  tents, 
no  arrangements  for  supplies.    Every  man  foraged  for 
himself.     There  were  no  bayonets,  cannon,  nor  even 
swords  for  the  officers.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  there 
were  not  in  the  true  military  sense  any  officers  at  all, 
though  the  personal  ascendancy  of  Shelby,  Sevier,  and 
Campbell,  who  led  the  Virginians,  vested  them  with 


ISO         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

a  certain  leadership.  In  the  end  Campbell  was  elected 
chief  commander,  but  at  the  same  time  Shelby  made  a 
speech  to  the  men  in  which  he  assured  them  that  each 
man  was  to  be  his  own  officer,  fight  on  his  own  account, 
but  never  leave  the  field.  When  the  British  were 
come  up  with,  they  were  to  be  "  given  Indian  play." 
Thus  instructed,  the  mountaineers  set  out  upon  the 
warpath,  their  numbers  increasing  by  volunteers  as 
they  made  their  way  along,  following  the  enemy  like 
the  hound  the  scent,  and  steadfastly  refusing  to  be 
drawn  from  the  trail  by  tempting  rumors  of  smaller 
bands  that  might  be  tracked  down  and  easily  destroyed. 

Ferguson  was  by  no  means  asleep,  nor  did  he  under- 
estimate the  character  of  the  force  so  tirelessly  tracking 
him  through  the  sparsely  settled  country.  That  he 
could  not  rejoin  Cornwallis  without  a  battle  he  knew 
well,  but  he  continued  his  retreat  in  the  direction  of 
his  chief,  watching  meanwhile  for  a  spot  where  he 
could  most  effectively  sustain  the  expected  assault.  The 
mountaineers,  for  their  part,  seeing  in  his  retreat  only 
a  confession  of  panic,  pursued  the  more  swiftly,  split- 
ting their  force  in  twain,  and  sending  forward  750 
picked  men,  mounted  on  the  best  horses  that  they 
might  the  more  quickly  overtake  the  fleeing  quarry. 

On  a  rocky  ridge  of  King's  Mountain  in  South  Caro- 
lina, near  its  northern  boundary,  Ferguson  halted  his 
men  and  made  ready  to  fight.  He  had  with  him  about 
1,200  men,  of  whom  about  200  were  British  regulars, 
the  remainder  Tories,  who  had  flocked  to  his  standard. 
As  he  looked  upon  them  massed  on  the  crest  of  a  pre- 
cipitous and  rocky  hill  he  felt  himself  impregnable 
and  cried  aloud  to  his  men,  "  Well,  boys,  here  is  a 
place  from  which  all  the  rebels  outside  of  hell  cannot 
drive  us." 

To  a  certain  extent  Ferguson  spoke  truly.  Not  one 
of  his  men  left  that  place  except  as  a  prisoner.     For 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       151 

the  men  of  the  mountains — "  dirty  mongrels,"  Fergu- 
son called  them  though  in  their  veins  flowed  the  blood 
of  the  Scottish  Covenanters  and  French  Huguenots — 
closed  in  on  every  side  of  the  ridge  and  undeterred  by 
its  steep  and  rugged  sides,  advanced  relentlessly  upon 
the  foe.  Here  came  into  action  that  "  Indian  play  " 
which  Shelby  had  advised.  Crouching  behind  trees 
and  boulders  to  load  and  to  fire,  the  frontiersmen 
would  run  warily  from  shelter  to  shelter,  ever  ad- 
vancing a  little  upon  Ferguson's  line.  That  com- 
mander, brave  and  alert,  called  his  men  into  action  with 
blasts  upon  a  silver  whistle,  and  when  the  assailants 
were  near  enough  flung  his  whole  line  upon  them  in  a 
mad  charge.  Unused  to  the  bayonet,  the  frontiersmen 
gave  way,  and  thinking  them  routed,  the  Tories 
turned  with  cheers  to  their  position  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill  only  to  find  another  line  of  silent,  swift  figures 
slipping  up  the  other  side,  spitting  deadly  rifle  bullets 
from  behind  logs  and  boulders  and  always  mounting 
higher.  Again  the  shrill  blasts  of  the  whistle,  and 
once  more  the  fierce  charge.  The  assailants  vanished 
and  the  defenders,  wearied  with  their  rush  returned  to 
their  stronghold  only  to  find  the  other  side  of  the  hill 
once  more  alive  with  the  pertinacious  foe.  So  for 
hours  the  conflict  raged,  silently  on  the  part  of  the 
Americans  who  needed  no  officers  to  shout  commands 
and  who  let  their  rifles  speak  for  them.  At  last  a 
bullet  found  Ferguson's  heart  and  he  fell  dead  from 
his  white  horse.  At  the  moment  the  assailants  were 
mounting  each  side  of  the  hill  simultaneously,  and 
perplexed  by  the  problem  of  defence  offered,  and 
shaken  by  their  leader's  death,  the  British  raised  the 
white  flag.  They  had  lost  389  men,  killed  or 
wounded,  and  716  surrendered  with  1,600  stand  of 
arms.  The  Americans  had  lost  20  killed  and  60 
wounded. 


152         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

The  fight  at  Kings  Mountain  was  a  notable  victory 
for  the  Patriot  cause,  even  though  it  was  not  followed 
up.  The  mountaineers,  having  slain  the  man  who 
threatened  them  and  destroyed  his  band,  after  hanging 
a  few  of  their  prisoners,  returned  to  their  homes,  their 
horses  and  their  barbecues.  They  were  Patriots  for 
local  reasons  only.  Nevertheless  their  victory  took 
the  snap  out  of  the  British  campaign  in  the  Carolinas. 
Cornwallis  had  lost  his  best  partisan  leader  and  only 
a  few  weeks  later  his  other  dashing  cavalryman  was 
roundly  beaten  at  Bluestock  Hill,  escaping  with  his  life 
and  little  else.  Marion  and  Sumter  had  taken  the 
field  again  with  renewed  enthusiasm.  Patriotic  farm- 
ers were  flocking  to  their  camps,  and  the  Tory 
settlers  were  beginning  to  see  that  it  was  not  wholly 
safe  to  aid  the  British  invaders.  Before  the  end  of 
the  year,  British  authority  in  the  Carolinas  extended  a 
rifle  shot  beyond  the  principal  British  camps  and  no 
farther. 

It  seemed,  therefore,  to  Washington  a  fitting  time 
to  attack  British  power  in  the  South.  In  the  North, 
the  enemy  held  New  York  City  and  nothing  else,  but 
his  grip  on  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas  was  still  firm 
and  it  was  evident  that  Virginia  would  soon  be  menaced 
from  the  South.  Thus  far  American  resistance  in  that 
section  had  been  futile,  except  in  the  work  of  the  ir- 
regular forces  like  those  of  Sumter  and  Marion,  or 
the  men  from  the  mountains.  Lincoln  had  permitted 
himself  to  be  locked  up  in  Charleston  and  lost  his 
whole  army.  Gates,  through  carelessness  and  stu- 
pidity, had  sacrificed  his  men  at  Camden.  The  South 
seemed  the  burial  ground  of  the  military  ambitions 
of  the  Patriot  generals.  Nevertheless,  Greene,  at  the 
urgency  of  Washington,  took  up  the  desperate  cause, 
and  Congress,  which  had  had  its  way  with  Gates  and 
learned  its  lesson,  acquiesced  in  the  selection.     Wash- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       153 

ington  showed  his  recognition  of  the  importance  of 
the  southern  campaign  at  this  moment  by  his  selection 
of  the  commanders  to  accompany  Greene.  Among 
them  was  Daniel  Morgan,  one  of  the  fighting  generals 
whom  Congress  had  passed  over  with  cold  indifference. 
At  Quebec  and  at  Saratoga,  Morgan  and  Arnold  were 
rivals  in  their  dash  and  courage,  but  the  claims  of  both 
were  ignored.  How  Arnold  resented  the  ingratitude 
of  Congress  is  one  of  the  tragedies  of  history.  Mor- 
gan, equally  ill-treated,  resigned  his  commission  and 
retired  to  his  plantation,  but  after  the  disaster  at 
Camden,  he  declared  that  it  was  no  time  to  nurse  a 
grievance,  however  just,  and  reported  to  Gates  with- 
out questioning  the  rank  or  the  service  to  which  he 
was  to  be  assigned.  Baron  Steuben,  the  drill-master, 
unapproachable  for  his  skill  in  making  a  finished  army 
out  of  raw  levies,  Kosciusko,  the  trained  engineer,  and 
Henry  Lee — "  Light  Horse  Harry  " — the  dashing 
cavalry  leader,  were  there.  Another  brilliant  com- 
mander of  horse  appeared  in  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Washington,  of  Virginia,  a  cousin  of  the  commander- 
in-chief. 

The  southern  campaign,  planned  and  executed  by  the 
leader,  not  only  resulted  in  a  series  of  victories,  but 
ended  in  the  conclusive  and  final  triumph  at  Yorktown. 
While  it  was  in  progress,  however,  there  were  occur- 
rences in  the  North  that  made  the  national  sky  seem 
dark  indeed.  It  was,  as  we  know  now,  that  darkest 
hour  that  according  to  the  proverb  comes  just  before 
the  dawn,  but  at  the  time  its  dark  was  unillumined  by 
any  morning  star  or  any  faint  flush  of  the  approaching 
morn. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Taking  of  Stony  Point  and  Paulus  Hook— The  Treason  of 
Arnold  and  the  Execution  of  Andre. 

Meantime  in  the  North  the  war  had  fallen  away  to 
a  mere  series  of  British  raids,  resisted  but  ineffectively 
by  such  Patriot  forces  as  could  hastily  be  gathered. 
The  British  held  New  York,  and  Washington  held 
them  to  it,  though  there  was  no  chance  for  him  to 
attack  them  successfully  so  long  as  he  had  no  fleet  and 
they  controlled  the  sea.  But  every  time  they  ventured 
out  from  under  the  guns  of  the  fleet  the  enemy  were 
driven  back.  Clinton  had  seized  Stony  Point,  a  strong 
position  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson  below  West 
Point,  which  the  Americans  held.  Although  the 
enemy  had  built  strong  works  there  Washington  deter- 
mined to  recapture  the  position,  partly  because  it 
menaced  his  more  important  post  at  West  Point,  partly 
because  it  afforded  a  convenient  base  for  the  raiding 
parties  with  which  the  British  were  harassing  Connecti- 
cut. The  adventure  was  no  light  one.  Stony  Point 
was  well  adapted  for  heroic  defence.  On  three  sides 
it  was  protected  by  the  waters  of  the  Hudson  River. 
On  the  fourth  was  a  deep  morass,  crossed  by  a  cause- 
way that  might  be  passed  only  at  low  tide.  When  the 
tide  was  high  the  Point  was  in  effect  an  island.  Heavy 
batteries  commanded  this  causeway,  and  with  a  gar- 
rison of  six  hundred  men  the  British  might  well  have 
considered  their  position  impregnable. 

To  retake  this  position  Washington  called  upon  Gen- 
eral Anthony  Wayne — "  Mad  Anthony  "  the  soldiers 
called  him  but  loved  him  in  his  maddest  exploits.     The 

154 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       155 

Indians,  who  had  come  to  know  him  well  and  feared 
him  much,  called  him  "  the  black  snake,"  and  the 
Indian  estimate  was  the  shrewder  of  the  two,  for  there 
was  more  of  cunning  than  of  madness  about  him.  Yet 
other  Indians,  recognizing  his  irresistible  force,  dubbed 
him  "  the  tornado,"  and  it  was  in  that  quality  that  he 
answered  Washington  who  asked  if  he  could  carry- 
Stony  Point.  "  I  will  storm  hell  if  you  will  plan  it," 
responded  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne. 

Whichever  general  planned  it,  the  plan  was  well 
matured  and  swiftly  executed.  With  1,200  men 
Wayne  took  position  in  the  country  near  Stony  Point. 
Every  precaution  to  avoid  detection  was  taken,  even 
the  dogs  for  three  miles  around  being  mercilessly 
slaughtered  lest  they  betray  the  presence  of  strangers, 
and  the  muskets  were  kept  unloaded  for  fear  of  a 
premature  discharge.  At  midnight  of  the  15th  of  July 
the  attack  was  delivered.  The  Americans  rushed 
across  the  causeway,  and  falling  into  two  columns 
swiftly  carried  the  works  in  a  resistless  rush.  Wayne 
was  struck  down  by  a  spent  ball,  and  unable  to  tell  the 
gravity  of  his  hurt,  but  thinking  it  perhaps  mortal, 
cried  to  his  men  to  bear  him  on  that  he  might  die 
within  the  fort.  He  was  thus  borne  on,  but  to  triumph 
and  not  to  death,  for  after  a  very  few  moments  of 
sharp  fighting  the  British  surrendered.  For  a  brief 
struggle  it  was  unusually  deadly.  The  Americans  lost 
15  killed  and  83  wounded,  the  British  63  killed.  In- 
cluding the  British  wounded,  553  prisoners  were  taken. 
Washington  held  the  captured  works  but  three  days, 
then  razing  the  redoubts  he  retired  to  the  Highlands 
with  the  captured  garrison,  the  cannon,  and  the  military 
stores. 

Watching  the  British  ships  lying  lazily  at  anchor  in 
the  North  River,  and  listening  to  the  British  bugles 
blowing  on  Manhattan  Island  was  wearying  work  for 


156         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

the  men  of  the  Continental  army,  but  shortly  after 
Wayne's  dashing  exploit  at  Stony  Point  another  gallant 
adventure  stirred  the  spirits  of  the  Americans.  This 
time  it  was  "  Light  Horse  Harry  "  Lee,  who  went  out 
after  laurels  and  came  back  plentifully  bedecked  with 
them.  At  Paulus  Hook,  New  Jersey,  the  low-lying 
sand  bar  on  which  now  stands  Jersey  City,  the  British 
had  a  strong  fort,  cut  off  from  the  mainland  by  a  morass 
and  a  deep  ditch  crossed  by  a  single  drawbridge.  The 
place  appeared  impregnable.  Certainly  its  defenders 
thought  so  and  in  their  confident  carelessness  invited  an 
attack.  Major  Lee,  who  was  posted  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, reported  the  situation  to  Washington  and  was 
authorized  to  try  a  surprise.  With  about  three  hun- 
dred soldiers  Lee  started  to  the  attack,  but  in  some 
way  the  troops  became  separated  and  he  reached  the 
fort  with  but  150  men,  hardly  half  the  number  he  sup- 
posed the  defenders  possessed.  Nevertheless  he  deter- 
mined to  make  the  attack,  and  passing  along  the  lines 
the  watchword  "  Be  firm,"  rushed  the  drawbridge  and 
the  redoubt,  carrying  the  fort  at  a  rush  and  with  the 
loss  of  but  two  killed  and  three  wounded.  It  was  no 
easy  task  to  retreat  with  prisoners  outnumbering  his 
own  force,  for  159  Britons  had  been  made  prisoners. 
But  the  firing  of  alarm  guns  and  the  roll  of  drums  on 
the  ships  in  the  river  gave  warning  that  retreat  was 
imperative,  so  hastily  dismantling  the  fort  the  victors 
withdrew,  reaching  the  American  lines  in  safety  with 
their  prisoners. 

These  two  victories,  though  without  bearing  on  the 
course  of  the  war,  reanimated  the  drooping  spirits  of 
the  army,  and  served  in  part  as  a  corrective  to  the 
dispiriting  tidings  from  Camden,  Savannah,  Charles- 
ton, and  other  scenes  of  British  triumph  in  the  South. 
Yet  they  could  not  be  followed  up,  nor  indeed  were 
they  of  proportions  sufficient  for  the  basis  of  a  cam- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       157 

paign.  So  long  as  the  British  clung  to  New  York 
Washington,  without  ships,  was  barred  from  any  of- 
fensive movements.  A  long  dismal  winter  was  fol- 
lowed by  an  equally  uneventful  summer.  Rocham- 
beau,  indeed,  with  six  thousand  Frenchmen,  arrived 
from  France  with  the  fleet  of  Admiral  Ternay — seven 
ships-of-the-line  and  three  frigates.  They  put  in  at 
Newport  to  await  a  second  expedition  which  was  to 
follow  them.  Unhappily  that  section  never  came,  but 
was  caught  at  Brest  by  thirty-two  British  ships  and  there 
blockaded  until  the  war  was  over.  Meanwhile  Clin- 
ton with  a  naval  force  superior  to  that  of  Ternay 
blockaded  the  French  in  Newport,  where  they  re- 
mained the  more  contentedly  as  they  knew  nothing  of 
the  state  of  their  fellows  at  Brest,  but  daily  expected 
the  arrival  of  the  second  fleet.  Accordingly  Rocham- 
beau  was  for  the  time  of  no  more  service  than 
D'Estaing  had  been  a  year  before. 

Into  this  atmosphere  of  quiet,  of  lazy  camps,  silent 
cannon,  and  idle  drills  was  suddenly  thrown  a  bomb, 
the  explosion  of  which  stirred  up  the  whole  country- 
side, struck  Washington  in  one  of  his  tenderest  friend- 
ships, roused  the  wrath  of  the  nation  to  the  fighting 
point,  and  cost  the  life  of  one  of  the  brightest  and  most 
engaging  youths  that  ever  wore  the  British  uniform. 
The  story  of  the  treason  of  Benedict  Arnold  and  the 
death  of  Major  Andre  has  been  so  often  told  that  it 
has  become  commonplace.  It  is  difficult  for  us  to 
comprehend  to-day  the  prodigious  effect  it  had  on  the 
mind  and  temper  of  the  people.  So  high  was  Arnold's 
state,  so  close  was  he  to  Washington,  so  vital  the  point 
in  the  American  line  which  he  proposed  to  sell  to  Great 
Britain,  that  men  wondered  how  much  farther  the  taint 
of  treason  had  spread,  and  whether  the  whole  revolu- 
tionary movement  was  not  infected.  Be  sure,  too,  that 
in  that  time  of  sharp  dissension  between  neighbors  over 


158         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  merits  of  the  proposition  for  independence  there 
were  plenty  to  spread  the  spirit  of  distrust  and  appre- 
hension, and  to  counsel  abandonment  of  the  whole  war 
as  a  futile  uprising,  honeycombed  with  treason  and 
doomed  to  disaster. 

The  treason  of  Arnold  is  one  of  the  great  tragic 
stories  of  history.  It  has  the  dramatic  qualities  of  a 
true  tragedy,  the  pathos  of  a  soul  slain  even  though 
the  body  escaped.  Until  the  fateful  moment  of  his 
final  fall,  Arnold  stands  forth  as  one  of  the  most  en- 
gaging figures  of  the  American  Revolution.  His 
courage  and  pertinacity  manifested  in  the  expedition 
against  Quebec,  and  again  at  Saratoga  where  he  was 
seriously  wounded,  won  for  him  the  admiration  of 
that  class  of  citizens  to  whom  a  soldier  who  fights  is 
an  idol.  The  callous  indifference  of  Congress  to  his 
just  claims  for  promotion,  the  stupid  indifference  with 
which  he  was  set  aside  while  honors  and  promotions 
were  heaped  upon  semi-traitors  like  Charles  Lee,  or 
political  generals  like  Gates,  won  for  him  the  sym- 
pathy of  men  who  understanding^  watched  his  career, 
while  his  loyalty  to  Washington  and  the  readiness  with 
which  he  responded  to  his  chief's  every  call  to  service, 
protesting,  as  he  did,  against  the  gross  injustice  done 
him  by  Congress,  earned  for  him  the  esteem  of  military 
men  of  every  grade.  There  were  times  often  when 
Benedict  Arnold  would  have  been  fully  justified  in 
resigning  from  the  Patriot  army  on  the  ground  of  ill- 
treatment.  The  long  record  of  studied  negligence  he 
endured  at  the  hands  of  Congress  might  almost  have 
justified  his  going  over  to  the  enemy.  But  when  he 
finally  took  the  fatal  step  he  did  so  in  a  way  that  in- 
dicated that  dignified  resentment,  or  a  fierce  and  over- 
mastering desire  for  revenge  had  less  to  do  with  it 
than  had  a  lust  for  money  and  for  place  in  the  British 
army. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       159 

Much  speculation  has  been  wasted  upon  the  question 
of  when  the  idea  of  betraying  his  country  first  seized  upon 
Arnold's  mind.  Some  refer  it  to  the  period  when  he 
was  put  in  command  at  Philadelphia,  after  Clinton  had 
been  driven  from  that  city.  The  pace  was  high  in 
what  we  are  accustomed  to  call  the  staid  old  Pennsyl- 
vania city,  and  General  Arnold's  entertainments  were 
lavish  and  costly.  He  ran  into  debt,  embarked  in 
some  unwise  speculations  in  a  vain  attempt  to  recoup 
himself,  and  was  even  accused  of  financial  irregulari- 
ties. The  gayest  social  set  in  Philadelphia  was  made 
up  of  the  moderate  Tories,  people  who  disapproved 
of  carrying  the  war  to  the  final  goal  of  independence, 
but  believed  that  the  concessions  offered  after  the  vic- 
tory at  Saratoga  should  have  been  accepted.  In  this 
circle  Arnold  moved,  and  listened  perhaps  the  more 
willingly  to  the  arguments  he  heard  there,  for  that  he 
had  become  greatly  enamored  of  one  of  its  chief  belles, 
Miss  Elizabeth  Shippen.  His  devotion  to  this  lady, 
naturally  compelled  marked  courtesies  to  her  relatives 
and  friends,  and  in  time  his  preference  for  Tory  society 
became  so  obvious  that  formal  protests  were  sent  to 
Congress  and  to  General  Washington.  When  they 
had  been  put  in  the  form  of  definite  charges  Arnold 
demanded  a  Congressional  investigation — a  demand 
which,  while  compelled  by  the  situation,  was  none  the 
less  courageous,  since  it  involved  the  trial  of  his  case 
by  a  body  long  and  inveterately  hostile  to  him.  Con- 
gress quibbled  long  with  the  matter.  The  committee 
report  exonerated  him,  but  Congress  instead  of  follow- 
ing the  usual  practice  and  approving  the  report  of  its 
committee,  wrangled  long  and  finally  recommended 
that  the  whole  matter  be  referred  to  a  court-martial. 
When  Washington  sought  to  have  the  court-martial 
called  at  once,  the  council  of  Pennsylvania  asked  for 
more  time  to  prepare  its  case.     In  the  midst  of  all  this 


160         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

delay,  so  irritating  to  a  man  of  Arnold's  temperament, 
his  marriage  to  Miss  Shippen  occurred,  and,  knowing 
his  high  temper  and  keen  sensitiveness  to  personal  af- 
fronts, one  can  but  feel  that  the  lady  must  have  had  a 
stormy  honeymoon.     It  has  been  charged  that  Mrs. 
Arnold,  whose  sympathies  as  a  girl  were  strongly  with 
the  Tories,  incited  her  husband  to  his  act  of  treason, 
but  this  charge  has  been  most  conclusively  disproved. 
It  was,  however,  just  about  the  period  of  his  marriage 
that  he  wrote  the  first  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton, 
signing  an  assumed  name  and  describing  himself  as  an 
American   officer,    aggrieved  by   the   French   alliance, 
unjustly  treated  by  Congress  and  contemplating  the 
transfer  of  his  allegiance  to  the  British  flag.     While 
this  correspondence  was  still  in  progress  Congress  re- 
ported on  the  charges  against  him,   exonerating  him 
from    all    serious    blame    but    directing    that   he    be 
reprimanded    by    the    commander-in-chief    for    "im- 
prudence."    The  slur  was  of  the  slightest,  but  to  a 
man  of  Arnold's  stamp  it  was  unbearable.     From  that 
moment,  apparently,  dates  his  determination  not  only 
to  go  over  to  the  British  himself,  but  to  deliver  some 
prominent    fortress,    some   considerable    command    as 
well. 

The  most  important  part  of  Washington's  line  of 
defence  against  British  aggressions  was  the  string  of 
forts  and  outposts  by  which  he  controlled  the  Hudson. 
Of  these  West  Point  was  the  strongest,  the  most  truly 
vital  one.  Arnold  in  July,  1780,  deliberately  sought 
command  of  this  fortress  from  Washington,  pleading 
that  the  wound  he  had  received  at  Saratoga  unfitted 
him  for  more  active  service.  Washington,  who  loved 
him,  granted  the  appointment;  the  more  readily  per- 
haps since  he  had  just  unwillingly  discharged  the  duty 
laid  upon  him  by  Congress  of  reprimanding  Arnold 
for    his    imprudence    at    Philadelphia.      Arnold,    his 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       161 

mind  full  of  morose  broodings  over  his  wrongs,  took 
command  of  the  stronghold  in  the  Hudson  highlands, 
ready  to  betray  not  merely  the  country  whose  uniform 
he  wore,  but  the  friend  who  had  offered  him  so  great 
a  consolation  in  the  moment  of  his  mortification. 

The  correspondence  with  the  British  had  been  kept 
up,  the  letters  from  the  enemy's  camp  being  signed 
John  Anderson,  and  written  by  that  gay  and  debonair 
young  officer,  the  moving  spirit  of  the  Meschianza, 
designer  of  its  costumes  and  writer  of  its  lyrics,  Major 
John  Andre.  In  the  course  of  this  correspondence 
references  were  made  and  hints  dropped  that  led  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  to  suspect  that  the  American  officer  was 
none  other  than  Benedict  Arnold,  though  the  letters 
came  signed  with  the  non-committal  name  '  Gustavus. 
So  certain  was  Clinton,  however,  of  the  identity  of  the 
traitor  that  he  embarked  troops  for  an  expedition  up 
the  Hudson,  and  detained  Admiral  Rodney,  who  was 
on  his  way  to  the  West  Indies,  to  take  command  of  the 

flotilla.  , 

As  matters  progressed  it  seemed  necessary  to  the 
fruition  of  the  project  that  the  two  negotiators  should 
meet    in    person.     Accordingly    "John    Anderson'^ 
wrote  from  the  British  headquarters  to  "  Gustavus 
at  West  Point,  and  a  meeting  was  arranged  between 
Major  Andre  and  Benedict  Arnold.    All  the  accesso- 
ries of  melodrama  attended  the  conference,  the  devel- 
opment of  the  conspiracy,  its  failure  and  its  tragic  end. 
Major  Andre  was  taken  up  the  river  on  a  British  sloop- 
of-war  significantly  named  the  "Vulture."     A  little 
below  Stony  Point  a  mysterious  boat  put  off  from  the 
shore  and  the  young  officer  was  taken  from  the  ship  in 
the  dead  of  night,  and  conveyed  to  a  funereal  grove 
of  fir  trees  under  whose  gloomy  shades  the  arch-con- 
spirator appeared  and  revealed  himself  as  indeed  Gen- 
eral Benedict  Arnold,  one  of  the  most  dashing  soldiers 


162  STORY    OF  OUR   ARMY 

of  the  Patriot  line,  the  commander  of  Washington's 
most  vital  stronghold  and  a  traitor  of  the  blackest  dye. 
The  business  in  hand  permitted  of  no  haste,  and  the 
night  wore  away  before  the  two  plotters  had  fully 
matured  their  plans.  When  dawn  broke  the  men  who 
had  brought  Andre  ashore  demurred  at  pulling  back 
to  the  ship  by  daylight.  It  was  the  time  when  rival 
gangs  of  Patriots  and  Tories,  "  Cowboys  "  and  "  Skin- 
ners "  they  called  themselves,  were  raiding  up  and 
down  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson,  and  it  would  go 
ill  with  boatmen  seen  to  visit  a  British  man-of-war. 
During  the  remainder  of  the  night  and  throughout  the 
day  that  followed,  the  two  conspirators  mapped  out 
their  plans.  The  great  chain  which  spanned  the  Hud- 
son below  West  Point,  some  links  of  which  may  still 
be  seen  at  the  United  States  Military  Academy,  was 
to  be  cut,  and  a  part  removed  on  the  pretext  that  it 
needed  repair.  Through  the  gap  thus  opened  the 
British  fleet  and  transports  were  to  advance  upon  West 
Point.  A  heavy  bombardment  and  a  land  attack  were 
sure  to  be  successful,  since  Arnold  agreed  to  scatter 
his  troops  so  widely  that  successful  defence  would  be 
impossible.  It  was  even  planned  that  the  traitor 
should  summon  Washington  to  his  aid,  concealing  the 
British  strength  so  that  the  commander-in-chief  and  a 
part  of  his  army  might  be  entrapped. 

As  his  reward  for  this  Arnold  was  to  receive  $30,000 
and  a  commission  as  brigadier-general  in  the  British 
army.  The  price  of  his  treason  to  his  country  and 
treachery  to  his  friend  was  as  low  as  his  action  was 
base. 

The  consultation  had  been  held  at  the  house  of  a 
farmer  named  Smith,  well  within  the  American  lines, 
and  while  the  two  officers  sat  at  the  breakfast  table  they 
heard  the  booming  of  guns  from  the  river.  Much 
alarmed   they  rushed   to   the   window,    and   saw  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       163 

American  fort  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  firing  upon 
the  "  Vulture."  That  vessel  being  wholly  unfit  to 
sustain  an  attack  at  such  short  range  speedily  dropped 
down  the  river,  much  to  the  disquiet  of  Andre  who 
had  expected  to  return  to  New  York  by  her.  Arnold, 
however,  reassured  him,  saying  that  the  vessel  would 
doubtless  only  proceed  beyond  cannon  shot,  which  in- 
deed proved  to  be  the  fact,  luckily  for  Arnold,  though 
it  had  no  bearing  on  the  fate  of  Andre.  Shortly  after 
this  incident  Arnold  returned  in  his  barge  to  West 
Point,  leaving  Andre  to  the  friendly  care  of  the  farmer, 
Smith,  who  was  to  put  him  on  the  ship  after  nightfall. 
It  was  recognized,  however,  that  it  might  be  necessary 
to  proceed  by  land  to  the  British  lines,  and  to  facilitate 
that  Arnold  wrote  out  a  couple  of  passes  for  Andre 
and  Smith.  At  the  solicitation  of  the  former  Arnold 
further  gave  him  some  papers  in  his  own  handwriting, 
including  a  plan  of  the  West  Point  works,  and  a  memo- 
randum of  the  disposition  of  the  troops.  These  papers 
cost  the  young  officer  his  life. 

It  would  seem  as  if  fate  moved  remorselessly  to 
compass  the  downfall  of  Major  Andre.  His  own  dis- 
obedience of  orders  contributed  much  to  the  fatal  end- 
ing of  his  adventure.  In  sending  him  out  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  who  thought  highly  of  him,  ordered  him  ex- 
plicitly not  to  enter  the  American  lines,  not  to  accept 
any  incriminating  papers,  and  above  all,  not  to  dis- 
pense with  his  uniform.  All  three  orders  were  un- 
heeded. When  the  boatmen  refused  to  take  him  back 
to  the  ship  after  the  midnight  conference  with  Arnold, 
he  went  to  the  Smith  house  within  the  American  lines. 
There  he  accepted  the  written  pass  and  other  papers 
from  Arnold — the  latter  probably  to  show  his  com- 
manding officer,  if  as  he  suspected,  Arnold  was  merely 
preparing  a  trap  for  him.  Finally  when  he  set  out 
with  Smith  to  make  his  way  back  to  the  British  lines, 


1 64         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  farmer,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  timid  and 
nervous  person,  persuaded  him  to  doff  his  army  uni- 
form and  don  citizen's  clothing.  He  became  thus  a 
spy  to  the  fullest  extent  of  the  definition — one  travel- 
ling in  disguise,  within  the  lines  of  his  enemy  and 
carrying  incriminating  papers. 

If  Arnold's  friend,  Smith,  had  planned  to  deliver 
up  Andre  he  could  hardly  have  gone  about  it  more  ef- 
fectively. Instead  of  rowing  his  guest  off  to  the  ship 
in  waiting,  he  begged  him  to  make  the  journey  by 
night  to  White  Plains  where  was  the  British  outpost. 
Andre,  being  armed,  should  have  forced  him  to  make 
the  trip  to  the  ship,  but  instead,  moved  perhaps  by 
his  companion's  fears,  agreed  to  the  more  perilous 
path.  Here  again  the  trepidation  of  the  farmer  cost 
the  young  officer  dear.  Crossing  the  river  at  sundown 
at  King's  Ferry  the  two  set  out  to  ride  through  the 
night.  But  some  gossip  along  the  road  persuaded 
Smith  that  the  "  Cowboys  "  were  abroad  and  that 
whatever  his  political  beliefs,  his  purse,  horses,  and 
perhaps  his  life  were  endangered  if  they  caught  him 
on  the  road  at  night.  Andre  allowed  himself  to  be 
persuaded  by  his  nervous  companion  to  spend  the  night 
at  a  farmhouse,  and  before  dawn  they  were  on  the 
road  again.  But  once  more  Smith  failed  to  perform 
the  duty  laid  upon  him  by  Arnold.  He  had  been 
strictly  enjoined  to  guide  Andre  all  the  way  to  White 
Plains.  But  having  passed  the  Croton  River  and 
entered  a  sort  of  neutral  ground  between  the  British 
and  American  lines,  he  begged  to  be  excused  from 
further  service.  Andre,  thinking  himself  near  home 
and  probably  disgusted  by  the  timid  fussiness  of  his 
guide,  readily  released  him  and  continued  his  way 
alone. 

He  was  travelling  the  Tarrytown  road  and  it  hap- 
pened that  just  then  the  feud  between  the  Cowboys 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       165 

and  Skinners  was  peculiarly  active.  Indeed  a  party  of 
the  latter  guerrillas  was  at  the  moment  seeking  for  a 
band  of  Cowboys  reported  to  be  in  the  vicinity.  As 
Andre  rode  along,  thinking  doubtless  of  the  apparent 
success  of  his  mission  and  nearing  the  British  lines  with 
each  pace  of  his  horse,  a  party  of  three  men  sprung 
from  the  underbrush  at  the  side  of  the  road  and  com- 
manded him  to  halt.  Andre  complied  readily  enough. 
They  had  stopped  him  without  any  particular  reason 
or  suspicion,  but  merely  because  he  was  a  stranger. 
Had  he  been  silent,  or  merely  blustered  about  his  ar- 
rest they  would  doubtless  have  let  him  pass  on — per- 
haps robbing  him,  for  that  was  part  of  the  patriotic 
activity  of  these  rangers.  But  the  guilty  secret  Andre 
bore  within  his  bosom  made  him  nervous.  Seeing  that 
one  of  his  captors  wore  a  Hessian  uniform  he  jumped 
to  the  conclusion  that  all  must  be  Cowboys,  or  parti- 
sans of  the  British  cause,  and  rashly  proclaimed  him- 
self a  British  officer  travelling  on  business  of  impor- 
tance. Thereupon  the  man  in  the  Hessian  livery 
avowed  himself  an  American  and  commanded  the  cap- 
tive to  dismount  and  be  searched.  Between  his  stock- 
ings and  the  soles  of  his  boots  were  found  the  papers 
which  Arnold  had  given  him.  Two  of  the  captors 
could  not  read,  but  the  third,  John  Paulding,  looking 
over  these  documents  swore  mightily,  "  By  God,  he  is 
a  spy,"  and  deaf  to  all  offers  of  bribes  and  hush  money 
took  his  captive  to  an  American  outpost  at  North 
Castle,  where  he  was  delivered  up  to  Colonel  John 
Jameson.  Andre,  indeed  said  later,  that  he  was  con- 
fident that  a  rich  enough  offer  would  have  induced  the 
three  Patriots  to  let  him  go,  but  it  is  fair  to  say  that 
John  Paulding,  thus  curiously  tossed  into  fame  by  fate, 
averred  that  after  he  saw  the  papers  ten  thousand 
guineas  would  not  have  induced  him  to  free  the 
prisoner. 


166         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Fate  now  began  to  play  a  pitiful  game  of  cat  and 
mouse  with  Major  Andre.  Indeed,  throughout  his 
tragic  story  there  are  so  many  points  at  which  we  see 
he  would  have  escaped  if  only  this  or  that  had  hap- 
pened, that  it  seems  fairly  the  work  of  malign  destiny 
that  he  ever  suffered  at  all.  Colonel  Jameson  seems 
to  have  been  a  high-minded  military  gentleman  quite 
incapable  of  suspecting  scoundrelism  in  his  command- 
ing officer.  For,  though  he  was  perplexed  by  the 
appearance  of  a  British  officer  travelling  toward  New 
York,  on  a  pass  furnished  by  General  Arnold,  with 
plans  of  the  West  Point  fortifications  in  his  stocking, 
he  let  no  suspicion  of  his  chief  cross  his  mind  but  sent 
Andre  to  Arnold  for  judgment.  The  papers  he  sent 
to  Washington. 

One  almost  regrets  that  the  worthy  colonel's  inten- 
tions were  frustrated.  There  would  have  been  a 
dramatic  completeness  in  the  confronting  of  the  un- 
detected traitor  by  the  detected  spy  that  would  have 
made  it  one  of  the  famous  meetings  of  history. 

But  again  fate  intervened.  That  way  Andre  might 
have  escaped,  and  destiny  had  clearly  marked  him  for 
death.  With  his  guard  he  was  we!l  on  his  way  toward 
West  Point  when  Colonel  Jameson's  second  in  com- 
mand, Major  Benjamin  Tallmadge,  came  into  camp 
at  North  Castle  and  was  told  of  what  had  occurred. 
More  suspicious  than  his  chief,  Major  Tallmadge 
urged  that  Andre  be  brought  back.  This  Jameson 
did,  but  allowed  the  letter  warning  Arnold  to  proceed 
on  its  way.  So  destiny  opened  the  pathway  of  escape 
to  the  arch-traitor  while  tightening  the  fetters  on  the 
lesser  criminal. 

Meanwhile  the  messenger  carrying  the  papers  to 
Washington  had  failed  to  find  him,  for  that  officer  was 
making  his  way  to  West  Point  by  an  unaccustomed 
road.     Though    Arnold    was    in    command    of    that 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       167 

fortress  his  headquarters  were  at  the  Robinson  house 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  river.  Thither  came  Wash- 
ington with  Lafayette,  Hamilton,  and  several  other 
members  of  his  staff.  Joking  the  younger  men  about 
their  being  in  love  with  Mrs.  Arnold — and  indeed  the 
winsome  Peggy  Shippen  had  become  the  toast  of  the 
Patriot  army  as  she  once  had  been  of  the  British — 
Washington  and  Knox  went  out  to  look  at  some  defen- 
sive works  while  the  rest  went  in  to  breakfast.  The 
meal  was  gay.  Lafayette  was  ever  a  charming  table 
mate,  and  the  company  was  at  its  merriest,  totally  un- 
conscious that  their  host's  mind  was  occupied  with  the 
project  of  betraying  West  Point  and  its  defenders,  in- 
cluding in  the  betrayal  Washington  himself,  if  he  could 
be  lured  into  the  zone  over  which  black  treachery  was 
brooding.  Nor  did  the  guilty  host  imagine  that  the 
mine  he  had  so  secretly  planted  was  on  the  verge  of 
explosion  and  that  he,  and  his  hapless  ally,  would  be 
its  sole  victims.  The  talk  and  the  meal  went  gaily 
on  until  a  messenger  entered  and  handed  General 
Arnold  a  sealed  note. 

It  was  a  moment  to  try  the  soundest  nerves.  The 
self-conscious  traitor,  facing  at  his  own  board  the 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army  he  plotted  to  betray, 
and  his  companions  in  arms  whose  bitter  contempt 
would  soon  be  loosed  upon  him,  held  in  his  hand  the 
letter  in  which  Jameson  unwittingly  warned  him  that 
all  was  discovered.  What  thoughts  must  have  rushed 
through  his  mind  at  that  moment!  How  much,  may 
he  have  wondered,  did  Washington  know,  for  Jame- 
son's note  told  that  the  papers  found  upon  Andre  had 
been  sent  to  the  commander-in-chief.  Those  present 
at  that  fateful  moment  agree  that  by  no  pallor,  no 
tremor  did  he  give  any  indication  of  the  shock  he  had 
sustained,  but  after  finishing  the  remark  which  had 
been  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  note  he  excused 


168         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

himself,  saying  he  had  been  suddenly  called  across  the 
river  to  West  Point  and  left  the  room.  Had  there 
been  a  sign  of  trepidation  visible  on  his  face  those 
present  would  scarcely  have  allowed  him  to  respond  to 
this  sudden  and  mysterious  call  without  asking  its 
character.  Only  his  wife  detected  a  slight  something 
under  the  mask  and  anxiously  followed  him  to  his 
room.  There  he  told  her  briefly  that  he  was  ruined, 
disgraced,  and  must  flee.  With  a  scream  she  fainted, 
and  lifting  her  to  the  bed  and  stooping  to  kiss  his  infant 
son,  he  made  his  way  to  the  riverside  and  was  rowed 
in  his  barge  to  the  u  Vulture,"  which  still  lay  in  the 
river  waiting  for  Andre,  who  was  destined  never  to 
return. 

So  quietly  had  his  departure  been  taken,  so  complete 
had  been  his  self-control  that  no  suspicion  had  been 
aroused.  About  noon  General  Washington  went  over 
to  West  Point.  Surprised  that  no  salute  greeted  the 
coming  of  the  commander-in-chief,  they  were  still  more 
perplexed  to  find  Arnold  absent  from  the  fort,  though 
he  had  left  the  breakfast  party  declaring  he  was  going 
thither.  Even  then  no  suspicion  entered  the  mind  of  any 
of  the  party.  But  on  returning  to  the  Robinson  house 
early  in  the  afternoon  they  found  Hamilton  awaiting 
them  with  a  face  that  told  the  story  of  some  dire  disas- 
ter. Jameson's  letter  for  Washington  with  Andre's 
papers  had  come  and  the  aide  had  read  them. 
"  Arnold  is  a  traitor  and  has  fled  to  the  British! 
Whom  can  we  trust  now?"  were  the  words  in  which 
Washington  announced  the  news  to  Lafayette  and 
Knox. 

There  was  little  time  for  speculation  or  for  regrets. 
Washington  quickly  found  evidences  of  Arnold's  intent 
to  so  scatter  the  troops  that  adequate  defence  of  West 
Point  would  be  impossible.  Countermanding  these 
orders,   he   prepared   for   an   immediate   attack,    and 


Underwood  &  Underwood,  NT.  Y- 


LETTERS  HOME 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       169 

indeed,  had  not  Major  Andre  been  captured  the  British 
would  at  that  very  moment  have  been  proceeding  up 
the  Hudson  to  the  assault.  At  supper-time  a  letter 
from  Arnold  reached  Washington.  The  traitor  made 
no  plea  nor  apologies,  but  simply  assured  Washington 
that  Mrs.  Arnold  had  no  share  in  his  treason  and 
begged  that  she  might  be  sent  to  her  parents  in  Phila- 
delphia or  to  join  him,  according  to  her  choice. 

For  the  unfortunate  Andre  there  was  universal  pity, 
and  no  mercy.  Perhaps  in  some  wiser,  more  humane, 
and  more  sensible  age  the  infliction  of  a  cruel  and 
ignominious  death  sentence  upon  a  youth  merely  be- 
cause it  is  customary,  though  even  his  judges  deplore 
it,  will  be  rightly  looked  upon  as  a  piece  of  barbarism. 
No  one  desired  Andre's  death.  Baron  Steuben,  one  of 
his  judges  said,  "  It  is  impossible  to  save  him.  Would 
to  God  the  wretch  who  has  drawn  him  to  his  death 
might  be  made  to  suffer  in  his  stead."  Why  it  was 
"  impossible  "  the  kindly  Baron  might  have  found  it 
hard  to  explain.  Men  wearing  the  British  uniform, 
thinking  themselves  quite  as  sternly  bound  by  precedent 
and  the  laws  of  war  as  now  did  Washington's  staff, 
had  four  years  before  put  to  death  with  like  ignominy, 
Nathan  Hale,  a  young  American  patriot.  The  bright 
young  life  then  snuffed  out  did  not  deter  Andre  from 
becoming  a  spy  later  when  his  country's  service  de- 
manded it,  nor  did  the  execution  of  the  latter  lighten 
the  burden  of  sorrow  that  the  fate  of  the  former  had 
caused.  A  dignified  and  pathetic  statue  in  the  City 
Hall  Park  of  New  York  commemorates  the  sacrifice 
of  the  American  spy;  a  vault;  in  Westminster  Abbey 
holds  the  ashes  of  the  British  spy.  Honored  by 
posterity,  beloved  by  their  comrades  in  arms,  and  re- 
spected by  their  foes,  these  two  hapless  young  men 
were  sacrificed  to  a  military  superstition  which  even  yet 
persists. 


170         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

Andre  was  hanged  nine  days  after  his  capture.  He 
made  his  trial  an  easy  one  by  telling  Washington  and 
his  judges,  with  the  utmost  frankness,  all  about  his  ill- 
fated  errand,  but  he  made  his  sentence  and  execution 
cruelly  hard  by  winning  the  liking,  the  affection  even,  of 
all  brought  into  association  with  him.  Even  to  the 
very  last  there  were  faint  possibilities  of  his  escape. 
Always  that  crucial  "  if,"  with  which  fate  so  plentifully 
bestrewed  the  story  of  his  march  to  the  gallows,  ap- 
peared at  the  critical  moment  to  block  good  fortune. 
If  Arnold  could  be  turned  over  to  the  Americans,  or 
recaptured  by  them,  was  the  diplomatic  suggestion 
made  to  Clinton,  Andre  might  be  permitted  to  escape. 
But  the  British  general  could  not  be  treacherous  to  the 
traitor  he  had  bought,  and  so  Andre  went  to  the  gal- 
lows to  expiate  another's  sin. 

It  was  a  wretched  and  a  pitiful  affair  throughout. 
Andre's  shameful  death  was  scarcely  more  tragic  than 
Arnold's  subsequent  shameful  life.  In  America  the 
traitor's  name  passed  into  a  synonym  for  all  that  is 
base  and  unworthy.  His  final  infamy  was  made  all 
the  deeper  and  blacker  by  the  height  to  which  he  had 
carried  his  name  in  the  days  of  his  loyal  service  to  his 
nation.  M  They  would  cut  off  the  leg  that  was 
wounded  at  Quebec  and  Saratoga,"  said  a  captive 
American  captain  when  Arnold  asked  what  would  be 
done  to  him  if  taken  prisoner,  "  and  bury  it  with  the 
honors  of  war.  The  rest  of  you  they  would  hang  on 
a  gibbet."  In  England,  however,  he  was  treated  with 
general  respect,  though  occasionally  some  testy  Briton 
insulted  him  with  references  to  traitors.  But  his  sons 
went  into  the  British  army,  and  the  family  was  gradu- 
ally merged  into  the  British  ruling  classes.  His  own 
later  life  was  wretched  and  full  of  self-reproach. 
Until  the  last  he  saved  the  old  buff  and  blue  Conti- 
nental  uniform,    and   the  epaulettes    and   sword-knot 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       171 

which  Washington  had  given  him  after  the  victory  of 
Saratoga.  As  death  drew  nigh  he  put  these  on. 
"  Let  me  die,"  he  said,  "  in  this  old  uniform  in  which 
I  fought  my  battles.  May  God  forgive  me  for  ever 
putting  on  any  other."     • 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Battle  of  the  Cowpens — Cornwallis  Retires  to  Virginia— La- 
fayette's Pertinacious  Pursuit — Approach  of  the  French  Fleet — 
The  Surrender  at  Yorktown — The  Continental  Army  Disbanded. 

War  is,  after  all,  the  most  uncertain  of  tribunals  to 
which  nations  commit  their  causes.  It  would  have 
required  an  inspired  seer  to  foresee  at  the  time  of 
Arnold's  treason  that  within  a  year  the  issue  of  the 
Revolution  would  be  settled  in  behalf  of  the  rebellious 
colonies  and  settled,  not  in  the  North,  where  thus  far 
the  bulk  of  the  fighting  had  been  done,  but  in  Virginia 
which,  despite  its  eminence  in  the  leadership  of 
the  Patriot  cause,  had  seen  but  little  of  the  actual 
fighting.  ^ 

The  winter  of  1780  indeed  brought  the  two  contend- 
ing armies  but  seldom  into  actual  clash.  During  the 
fall  occurred  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain,  which  has 
already  been  described,  and  which  left  the  state  of  af- 
fairs in  the  South  so  promising  that  Greene  had  been 
appointed  general  of  the  armies  there  operating. 
Greene  put  Baron  Steuben  in  command  in  Virginia, 
intrusting  him  with  protecting  the  state  against  the 
ravages  of  Arnold  who  was  already  busy  in  the  British 
service,  and  himself  went  on  to  Charlotte,  North  Caro- 
lina, where  he  began  his  preparations  for  a  campaign 
against  Cornwallis.  That  dashing  British  general, 
though  somewhat  shaken  by  Ferguson's  defeat  at 
King's  Mountain,  was  being  strengthened  by  troops 
sent  in  haste  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  commanded 
an  army  with  which  Greene  was  not  strong  enough  to 
cope.  But  the  American  general  possessed  in  Sumter, 
Marion,    Lee,    and    Colonel    William    Washington, 

172 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       173 

cavalry  leaders  whose  dash  and  audacity  were  invinci- 
ble. They  were  to  the  Patriot  army  what  in  later 
years  Sheridan  was  to  the  Union,  and  Forrest,  Mosby, 
and  Fitzhugh  Lee  to  the  Confederate  forces.  They 
hovered  about  Cornwallis,  raiding  his  outposts,  cutting 
his  communications,  stirring  up  anew  the  section  of  the 
country  he  thought  he  had  pacified.  He  had  no  leader 
able  to  cope  with  them,  though  in  Tarleton  he  pos- 
sessed a  cavalry  leader  of  the  first  rank.  Greene  had  di- 
vided his  own  army  into  two  bodies,  the  lesser  of  which, 
900  strong  under  General  Morgan,  he  had  sent 
to  menace  Augusta  and  Ninety-Six — the  latter  a  little 
hamlet  near  the  centre  of  South  Carolina,  which  long 
since  vanished  from  the  map.  Cornwallis  followed 
suit.  With  about  two  thousand  men  he  advanced  into 
North  Carolina  hoping  that  Greene  would  follow  him 
thither.  Tarleton  with  1,100  men  he  sent  after  Mor- 
gan. Each  of  the  British  divisions  was  numerically 
superior  to  the  American  force  it  confronted,  and  they 
had  the  added  advantage  of  being  made  up  of  regulars 
while  the  Patriots  were  mainly  raw  militia. 

Morgan  was  in  no  wise  loath  to  meet  the  champion 
sent  to  overthrow  him.  Retreating  just  long  enough 
to  choose  his  ground,  he  finally  took  position  at  a 
clearing  not  far  from  King's  Mountain,  known  as  the 
Cowpens.  Here  he  posted  his  men  in  a  battle  array 
which  the  conventional  tactician  would  look  upon  as 
fatal.  The  first  daring  strategist  who  burned  his 
bridges  behind  him  had  none  the  better  in  audacity  of 
Morgan.  Behind  his  line  of  battle  was  a  broad  river 
with  no  means  of  passage,  but  when  he  was  told  that 
in  case  of  disaster  he  had  reserved  no  possibility  of 
retreat  he  responded  that  this  was  just  what  he  wanted. 
His  militia  would  see  it  was  impossible  to  run  away 
and  would  therefore  stop  and  fight.  It  was  better,  he 
contended,  than  the  usual  custom  of  stationing  a  line 


174         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  regulars  to  shoot  down  fugitives.  When  he  came 
to  post  his  men  he  put  the  Carolina  and  Georgia  militia 
in  front,  telling  them  very  frankly  that  he  expected 
them  to  be  frightened  by  the  novel  experience  of  sus- 
taining a  charge,  but  exhorting  them  not  to  run  away 
without  delivering  at  least  two  effective  volleys,  and 
when  they  did  run,  not  to  charge  back  through  the 
lines  behind  them,  but  to  run  around  the  flanks  and  to 
the  rear,  thus  assuring  their  own  safety  without  throw- 
ing the  whole  army  into  confusion.  Back  of  the  mili- 
tia he  placed  the  Continentals — seasoned  troops  from 
Virginia  and  Maryland — and  back  of  these  were 
Colonel  Washington's  squadrons  of  cavalry. 

The  British  came  on  gallantly.  They  had  marched 
all  night  over  muddy  roads  and  through  swollen  creeks, 
but  dashed  into  the  attack  scarcely  waiting  to  form 
their  ranks.  It  was  Tarleton's  characteristic  way  of 
rushing  to  the  attack,  but  it  did  not  work  well  this 
time.  The  American  militia,  piqued  perhaps  by  Mor- 
gan's calm  assumption  of  their  timidity,  fired  not  two, 
but  many  rounds  at  close  range  and  when  they  did  give 
way,  retired  in  good  order  around  the  flanks  of  the 
supporting  Continentals.  The  British  pressing  on, 
their  ardor  aroused  by  the  flight  of  what  they  supposed 
to  be  Morgan's  main  army,  found  themselves  con- 
fronted by  a  perfectly  fresh  body  of  veteran  Continen- 
tals. These  they  engaged  with  gallantry,  and  owing 
to  a  mistaken  command  were  about  to  crumple  up  the 
American  left  wing  when  Washington's  cavalry  with 
ringing  cheers  dashed  around  the  American  flank  and 
fell  upon  them.  Caught  between  two  fires  the  enemy 
was  thrown  into  a  confusion  from  which  there  could 
be  no  recovery.  The  two  lines  mingled  in  hand-to- 
hand  conflict,  and  Colonel  Washington  and  Colonel 
Tarleton  in  the  midst  of  their  men  fought  a  sabre  duel 
in  which  neither  was  injured,  and  which  ended  by  Tarle- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       175 

ton's  taking  to  flight,  not  through  fear  of  personal  in- 
jury, but  because  his  men  on  every  side  were  throwing 
down  their  arms  and  his  capture  was  imminent.  The 
day  ended  not  merely  in  defeat  for  the  British  but  in 
hopeless  rout.  They  lost  230  in  killed  and  wounded, 
600  prisoners,  1,000  stand  of  arms,  and  2  field  pieces. 
One  of  the  enemy  was  killed,  wounded,  or  captured 
for  every  American  engaged,  while  the  Americans  lost 
but  12  killed  and  61  wounded.  This  great  dis- 
proportion between  the  losses  is  the  more  amazing 
when  it  is  remembered  that  the  Americans  had  no 
defensive  works.  231  of  the  British  escaped — 
some  riding  away  with  Tarleton,  more  making  their 
way  in  small  bands  across  the  country  to  join  Corn- 
wallis. In  that  one  day's  fighting  the  British  general 
had  lost  fully  one-third  of  his  army  for  the  subjugation 
of  the  South. 

Morgan  was  not  unduly  elated  by  the  victory  he 
had  won.  He  knew  that  Cornwallis  with  a  superior 
force  would  be  quickly  at  his  throat  clamoring  for  re- 
venge, and  he  straightway  set  out  to  join  Greene.  That 
general,  hearing  of  the  victory,  took  a  small  party  of 
dragoons  and  rode  hard  to  meet  his  victorious  lieu- 
tenant. The  juncture  was  soon  effected,  and  with 
Greene  in  command  Morgan's  force  continued  its  flight 
toward  the  main  American  army  with  Cornwallis  in 
hot  pursuit.  So  great  was  the  Earl's  desire  to  give 
battle  that  he  even  destroyed  his  baggage  train  in  order 
to  march  the  faster.  But  the  Americans  raced  the 
faster  and  at  Guilford  Court  House,  only  30  miles 
from  the  Virginia  border,  the  American  forces  were 
reunited.  Even  then  they  were  inferior  to  the  British 
in  numbers,  and  for  a  month  or  more  Greene  evaded 
a  battle.  But  his  force  was  steadily  increasing  and 
by  the  middle  of  March  he  outnumbered  Cornwallis 
nearly  two  to  one.     Then  at  Guilford  he  stood  and 


176         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

prepared  to  meet  the  shock  of  battle.  Though  the 
Americans  had  the  advantage  of  numbers  the  British 
troops  were  all  seasoned  veterans,  while  the  Patriots 
were  in  the  main  militia. 

The  success  of  Morgan's  formation  at  the  Cowpens 
seems  to  have  encouraged  Greene  to  make  a  very 
similar  disposition  of  his  troops,  though  there  was  no 
river  in  the  rear  to  cut  off  a  possible  retreat.  His 
first  line  was  made  up  of  North  Carolina  militia. 
These  he  expected  to  run  away,  but  he  adjured  them 
earnestly  to  fire  a  few  deadly  volleys  before  fleeing. 
As  they  were  men  used  to  the  rifle  in  hunting,  if  not 
in  war,  he  anticipated  that  their  fire  would  cause  the 
enemy  some  loss.  300  yards  to  the  rear,  in  a 
patch  of  woods  was  the  second  line  made  up  of 
Virginia  militia,  while  on  a  hill  400  yards  farther 
back  were  the  regulars  of  Maryland  and  Virginia. 
On  the  flanks  were  the  cavalry  of  Washington  and 
Lee,  and  the  sharpshooters  of  Campbell.  Rather 
more  than  4,000  men  stood  ready  to  give  the  British 
battle. 

The  enemy  came  on  in  gallant  style  and  the  untrained 
Carolinians  withstood  his  advance  but  briefly.  The 
Virginians,  however,  were  more  tenacious  of  their  posi- 
tion and  held  the  enemy  long  in  check.  But  the  tide 
of  battle  rolled  back  and  forth  with  varying  success 
for  either  side.  Cornwallis  handled  his  men  with 
more  caution  than  had  Tarleton  at  the  Cowpens,  and 
though  more  than  once  some  portion  of  his  line  was 
thrown  into  rout  by  the  fierce  dashes  of  Washington's 
cavalry  he  stubbornly  reformed  his  lines  and  fought 
on.  Night  fell  upon  a  drawn  battle,  though  the 
Americans  retired  from  the  field.  There  was  not 
great  disparity  in  the  losses — to  the  Americans 
about  400;  to  the  British  about  600.  But  the  whole 
British  force  hardly  exceeded  2,200  men  and  the  loss 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       177 

of  so  large  a  portion  of  it  made  it  utterly  fatuous  to 
risk  another  battle.  Herein,  even  though  the  actual 
battle  of  Guilford  be  reckoned  as  a  defeat  for  Greene, 
it  proved  the  culmination  of  audacious  strategy  that 
had  been  thoroughly  successful.  He  had  enticed  Corn- 
wallis  far  away  from  his  base,  from  the  coast  where 
he  might  look  to  the  fleet  for  aid,  and  crippled  him 
so  that  he  dared  not  fight  again.  Nor  in  his  weakened 
state  did  Cornwallis  dare  to  return  to  South  Carolina 
whence  he  had  come.  Flight  it  is  true  was  imperative, 
but  it  must  be  by  the  shortest  route  to  the  nearest  place 
where  the  protecting  guns  of  the  fleet  might  afford  him 
shelter.  Wilmington  seemed  to  offer  such  a  haven  of 
refuge  and,  abandoning  his  wounded  in  retreat,  as  he 
had  burned  his  baggage  train  in  the  ardor  of  pursuit, 
the  noble  earl  fled  with  the  shattered  remnant  of  his 
army. 

Two  weeks  only  the  British  remained  at  Wilming- 
ton; then  began  the  movement  which  ended  in  deliver- 
ing them  into  the  hands  of  their  adversaries.  The  be- 
lated activities  and  repeated  successes  of  the  Americans 
had  brought  to  naught  all  the  early  successes  in  the 
Carolinas  and  Georgia.  True,  the  British  still  held 
Charleston,  Savannah,  and  Augusta,  but  the  interior  of 
these  colonies  was  wholly  unsubdued.  Cornwallis  might 
have  returned  to  Charleston  by  sea,  and  begun  once 
more  the  task  of  subjugation,  but  he  had  no  taste  for 
the  work,  which  furthermore  savored  somewhat  of  a 
retreat.  Accordingly  he  determined  to  move  over  into 
Virginia.  Benedict  Arnold  was  there,  prosecuting  raids 
with  a  savagery  that  showed  the  position  of  a  con- 
fessed traitor  not  conducive  to  a  gentle  disposition. 
General  Phillips  had  just  been  sent  down  by  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  with  a  considerable  army  and  Cornwallis,  by 
effecting  a  junction  with  these  commands,  found  himself 
at   Petersburg  with   a   force   of  five   thousand   men. 


178         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

What  he  did  thereafter  was  utterly  unimportant  until 
he  surrendered  at  Yorktown. 

The  withdrawal  of  Cornwallis  left  Greene  with  a 
free  hand  in  the  South.  No  one  of  the  British  gar- 
risons left  there  was  strong  enough  to  cope  with  him  in 
the  open,  though  behind  their  defensive  works  they 
would  be  able  to  give  him  a  hard  fight.  He  pursued 
Cornwallis  for  about  50  miles  and  then  turned  south- 
ward, having  made  up  his  mind  to  free  South  Carolina 
and  Georgia  from  British  domination.  The  question 
of  strategy  involved  was  a  nice  one.  If  he  could  force 
the  retreating  British  into  a  battle  and  win  it,  he 
would  completely  wreck  British  power  in  the  South. 
But  Cornwallis  showed  every  intention  of  refusing 
battle,  and  once  at  the  coast  and  in  communication  with 
the  British  fleet  would  be  no  light  adversary.  It  was 
better,  thought  Greene,  to  leave  Cornwallis  to  his  own 
devices,  and  swoop  down  upon  the  isolated  British 
garrisons  to  the  southward,  all  of  which  would  be  easy 
game  unless  Cornwallis  turned  in  pursuit. 

Keeping  his  own  counsel  he  turned  toward  Camden, 
160  miles  distant,  where  the  British  had  nine  hundred 
men  under  command  of  Lord  Rawdon.  Cornwallis, 
perplexed  by  this  move  made  no  effort  to  follow,  but 
pressed  on  into  Virginia  thinking  no  doubt  that  the 
importance  of  that  colony  was  so  great  that  Greene 
would  be  called  back  from  whatever  adventure  he  had 
undertaken,  to  afford  protection  to  the  towns  and  great 
estates  of  the  Old  Dominion.  In  this,  however,  he 
misjudged  the  temper  of  the  Virginians.  No  cry  went 
forth  for  Greened  return,  and  that  officer  marching 
swiftly  invested  Camden,  and  sent  out  Lee  and  Marion 
to  reduce  Fort  Watson,  a  point  on  the  British  line  of 
communications  half-way  to  Charleston.  The  tak- 
ing of  this  fortress  was  amusing  rather  than  san- 
guinary. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       179 

It  stood  on  the  crest  of  an  Indian  mound,  rising  steeply 
forty  feet  high  from  level  country,  and  was  garrisoned 
by  120  picked  riflemen.  The  fire  and  dash  of  Lee's 
and  Marion's  roughriders  were  little  service  here,  for 
it  was  no  place  for  cavalry.  Artillery  would  have 
ended  the  fort  in  a  jiffy  but  the  besiegers  had  no  guns. 
Dreading  the  heavy  loss  of  life  that  would  attend  any 
effort  to  rush  so  powerful  a  work,  the  besiegers  brought 
American  ingenuity  into  play.  All  about  them  was 
the  stately  forest  of  Southern  pine.  The  command 
was  suddenly  turned  into  axemen  and  carpenters. 
Leaving  a  few  score  of  riflemen  at  the  edge  of  the 
forest  to  keep  the  defenders  of  the  fort  busy,  the  rest 
of  the  Americans  worked  with  axe  and  saw,  until  after 
five  days'  work  the  garrison  saw  rising  before  them, 
within  easy  rifle  shot,  a  huge  wooden  tower  from  the 
top  of  which  riflemen  might  command  every  corner  of 
the  fort.  A  breastwork  of  logs  protected  its  base  from 
any  effort  on  the  part  of  the  garrison  to  rush  it,  while 
a  ramparted  platform  at  the  top  was  crowded  with 
men  ready  to  pick  off  the  British  wherever  they  might 
seek  refuge.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  checkmate.  Re- 
sistance would  have  been  mere  bloody  sacrifice  of 
the  garrison,  and  the  inevitable  surrender  was  soon 
effected. 

Meantime  Lord  Rawdon,  advancing  from  Camden, 
engaged  the  Americans  and  beat  them.  The  defeat 
was  decisive,  but  not  sufficiently  so  as  to  justify  Rawdon 
in  reoccupying  Camden  with  his  connections  severed 
through  the  loss  of  Fort  Watson.  Accordingly  he 
retreated  toward  Charleston.  The  events  of  the  suc- 
ceeding months  need  not  be  told  in  detail.  There  was 
almost  constant  fighting  in  the  uplands  of  Georgia  and 
the  Carolinas,  with  victory  almost  invariably  resting 
with  the  Americans.  Most  of  the  battles  were  small 
affairs,  engaging  only  the  partisan  bands  of  Sumter, 


180         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Marion,  and  Lee,  until  the  main  armies  of  Greene  and 
Colonel  Stuart,  who  had  succeeded  Lord  Rawdon, 
came  into  collision  at  Eutaw  Springs,  South  Carolina, 
about  fifty  miles  from  Charleston.  In  this  action  the 
British  were  decisively  beaten  in  the  first  day  of  fight- 
ing, but  rallied  and  regained  on  the  second  day  all 
they  had  lost  on  the  first.  Whether  to  class  it  as  an 
English  or  an  American  victory  is  a  matter  admitting 
of  some  doubt,  but  in  the  end  it  worked  to  the  Ameri- 
can advantage,  for  the  enemy  retired  from  the 
position  regained,  and  fled  to  Charleston  where  they 
were  penned  up  for  the  rest  of  the  war.  Greene  had 
saved  the  state  for  the  Patriot  cause,  and  presently 
thereafter  all  semblance  of  British  authority  in  Georgia 
and  North  Carolina  away  from  the  coast  was  sur- 
rendered. In  eighteen  months  the  South,  that  seemed 
hopelessly  lost,  had  been  regained.  Its  redemption 
was  largely  the  work  of  its  own  people,  and  the  names 
of  Sumter,  Marion,  Lee,  Pickens,  Moultrie,  and 
Shelby  are  rightly  placed  high  in  the  American  table  of 
fame.  But  while  the  partisan  rangers  and  the  local 
militia  fought  well  and  effectively,  it  must  be  conceded 
that  the  little  nucleus  of  Continentals,  the  precursors 
of  our  regular  army  of  to-day,  formed  in  nearly  every 
battle  the  cornerstone  of  the  edifice  of  defence,  the 
animating  force  of  the  attack. 

Cornwallis,  in  Virginia,  heard  of  the  collapse  of  the 
British  authority  in  the  South  with  no  pleasant  feelings. 
But  the  die  was  cast  when  he  moved  into  Virginia,  and 
he  was  too  far  away  to  do  anything  to  aid  Rawdon  or 
Stuart.  Moreover,  he  was  beginning  to  worry  a  little 
about  his  own  position.  He  was  confronted  only  by 
Lafayette,  whom  the  British  called  contemptuously  "  the 
boy,"  and  about  three  thousand  militia,  as  against  his 
own  five  thousand  veterans.  None  the  less  the  Earl 
felt  vaguely  disquieted.     He  had  hoped  to  be  able  to 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       181 

rouse  the  slaves  against  their  masters,  as  had  been  done 
in  South  Carolina.  But  he  found  there  that  the  relation 
of  owner  and  slave  had  in  it  much  of  affection  and  mu- 
tual confidence.  Instead  of  responding  to  his  agents 
the  blacks  betrayed  them  and  he  very  speedily  aban- 
doned hope  of  this  method  of  prosecuting  war  in  Vir- 
ginia. 

Lafayette,  despite  his  youth,  irritated  Cornwallis  not 
a  little.  He  set  himself  the  task  of  crushing  the  young 
marquis  but  the  Frenchman  showed  a  talent  for  swift 
evasion  of  attacks,  while  ever  maintaining  a  menacing 
position  of  which  he  had  not  been  thought  capable. 
"  The  boy  cannot  escape  me,"  wrote  the  Englishman, 
but  the  "  boy  "  not  only  escaped  him  repeatedly,  but 
manoeuvred  him  into  a  position  from  which  he  him- 
self could  not  escape.  For  Lafayette's  force  grew  con- 
tinually. Cornwallis  sent  Tarleton  on  a  raid  to  Char- 
lottesville to  disband  the  legislature  and  if  possible  cap- 
ture the  governor,  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  was  on  his 
estate  at  Monticello  near-by.  Jefferson  escaped  in  the 
nick  of  time,  warned  by  the  faithful  slaves  whom  the 
British  general  had  hoped  to  corrupt.  It  is  interesting 
to  speculate  upon  what  the  British  would  have  done 
with  Jefferson  had  Tarleton  caught  him.  The  author 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  could  have  hoped 
for  but  little  mercy  from  Lord  North's  government,  but 
on  the  other  hand,  the  war  had  progressed  too  far  for 
American  captives,  however  obnoxious,  to  be  treated 
merely  as  rebels.  Nevertheless,  Jefferson  was  doubt- 
less justified  in  sacrificing  dignity  to  expedition  when  he 
fled  from  his  home  only  a  few  minutes  before  Tarle- 
ton's  raiders  reached  it. 

After  this  exploit  Cornwallis  proceeded  in  leisurely 
fashion  toward  the  sea,  having  ever  in  mind  the  wisdom 
of  keeping  close  to  the  fleet  and  his  base  of  supplies. 
After  a  brief  stay  in  Richmond,  he  marched  down  the 


182         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

narrow  peninsula  between  the  James  and  the  York 
rivers  until  he  had  reached  Williamsburg,  the  Colonial 
capital  and  the  seat  of  William  and  Mary  College. 
Lafayette,  who  seemed  no  longer  averse  to  being  caught, 
since  his  forces  had  been  increased  to  5,000  men 
by  the  arrival  of  Steuben,  pressed  hard  on  his  rear, 
attacking  him  once  but  being  beaten  off  with  a  loss  of 
145  men. 

Had  Cornwallis  allowed  himself  to  ponder  upon  the 
improbable  in  those  summer  days  of  178 1,  he  might 
have  been  somewhat  concerned  about  his  military  pros- 
pects. On  three  sides  his  army  was  hemmed  in  by 
water.  On  the  fourth  he  was  confronted  by  an  enemy 
his  equal  in  numbers,  though  it  is  true,  not  in  discipline 
or  efficiency.  But  the  Americans  could  be  reenforced 
continually  by  land,  while  all  supporting  troops,  all 
provisions  and  munitions  of  war  for  him  had  to  come 
by  sea.  But  the  despised  rebels  had  no  navy,  no  way 
of  menacing  his  easy  communication  with  New  York. 
So  Cornwallis  dismissed  from  his  mind  any  disquieting 
thoughts,  certain  as  he  was  that  whenever  he  chose  he 
could  say  good-bye  to  Lafayette  and  sail  off  to  New 
York  or  to  Charleston  as  he  saw  fit. 

Had  Cornwallis  known  what  was  doing  far  from 
his  own  lines  he  would  have  been  less  easy  in  his  mind. 
For  some  months  Washington  and  Rochambeau  had 
been  planning  a  combined  American  and  French  attack 
on  New  York.  To  give  any  hope  of  success  to  the 
cooperation  a  great  French  fleet  was  necessary 
and  now  the  Count  de  Grasse  was  on  the  ocean, 
bound  for  America  with  28  ships-of-the-line,  and  6 
frigates,  carrying  1,700  guns  and  20,000  men. 
The  British  had  no  fleet  in  American  waters  at 
all  capable  of  coping  with  it.  There  were  no  swift 
scouting  steamers  in  those  days,  no  cables  nor  wire- 
less,   and  intelligence   travelled   but   slowly.     Wash- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       183 

ington  was  watching  eagerly,  wistful  for  more  news, 
the  operations  of  Greene  in  South  Carolina  and  Lafay- 
ette in  Virginia.  He  saw  how  precarious  was  the 
position  of  Cornwallis,  provided  the  control  of  the  sea 
could  be  wrested  from  the  British,  and  he  was  racked 
with  anxiety  as  to  the  plans  of  De  Grasse.  If  the 
French  fleet  were  to  come  direct  to  New  York  that 
would,  of  course,  be  the  point  at  which  to  strike.  But 
contemplating  the  position  in  which  Cornwallis  had  put 
himself,  Washington  fairly  itched  to  be  at  him,  and 
when  news  arrived  from  De  Grasse  that  he  was  on  his 
way  to  the  Chesapeake,  the  American  army  sprung  from 
its  position  like  hounds  from  a  leash. 

Rochambeau's  force  had  prior  to  this  time  joined 
Washington  at  West  Point,  and  after  providing  for  a 
sufficient  garrison  to  hold  that  fortress  in  his  absence, 
the  American  commander  started  southward  with  two 
thousand  Continentals  and  four  thousand  Frenchmen. 
Rochambeau  knew  his  destination  but  no  one  else,  for 
it  was  vitally  important  that  his  movements  should  be 
cloaked  in  secrecy  as  far  as  possible.  Clinton  had  still 
command  of  the  sea,  and  if  he  learned  in  time  that 
Washington  contemplated  marching  his  troops  four 
hundred  miles  from  West  Point  to  Virginia,  he  would 
undoubtedly  put  his  army  on  ships  and  hurry  to  the 
succor  of  Cornwallis.  Accordingly,  Washington 
marched  as  far  from  the  Hudson  as  possible.  Even 
so,  Clinton  learned  that  the  Continental  army  was  in 
motion  but  imagined  it  was  Washington's  plan  to 
occupy  Staten  Island  and  hold  it  until  De  Grasse  should 
come  up.  Washington  furthered  this  delusion  in  every 
possible  way,  feinting  against  Staten  Island,  and  even 
beginning  the  erection  of  quarters  as  though  preparing 
for  a  protracted  campaign.  Not  until  September  2, 
178 1,  when  the  Americans  were  marching  through  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia  did  Clinton  fairly  wake  up  to 


184         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  fact  that  he  had  been  ignored  and  that  Washington 
was  closing  down  upon  Cornwallis,  who  was  in  a  trap 
from  which  there  could  be  no  escape. 

As  Washington  led  the  allied  armies  of  French  and 
Americans  through  the  streets  of  the  quaint  Quaker  City, 
all  alert  and  eager  for  a  battle  in  which  all  were  con- 
fident of  victory,  his  mind  must  have  turned  back  to  the 
time,  early  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution,  when  he  fled 
through  the  same  streets  with  the  British  triumphantly 
pressing  upon  his  rear  guard.  Three  years  had  passed 
away.  The  American  army  had  sustained  the  sufferings 
of  Valley  Forge,  the  reverses  at  Savannah  and  Charles- 
ton, and  the  treason  of  Arnold.  It  had  endured  and 
survived  the  utter  impotence  of  Congress.  It  had 
starved,  not  cheerfully  but  still  with  resignation,  and 
had  endured  without  revolt  the  inchoate  state  of  the 
National  finances  and  currency  that  made  the  soldiers' 
pay  an  often  deferred  hope,  and  a  mockery  when  it 
was  finally  tendered.  There  had  been  no  really  great 
Patriot  victory  during  this  period,  but  on  the  other 
hand,  the  British  had  made  no  progress  toward  the 
subjugation  of  the  colonies.  A  revolution  is  trium- 
phant as  long  as  it  persists.  Its  continued  existence  is  in 
itself  a  victory.  The  forces  of  King  George  now  held 
New  York,  Charleston,  and  Savannah  and  practically 
nothing  else.  Small  wonder  is  it  that  as  Washington 
passed  through  Philadelphia  and  out  into  the  country 
through  which  he  had  fled  before  Howe,  he  should  feel 
the  spirit  of  victory  animating  him.  At  Chester  he 
learned  that  De  Grasse  had  arrived  in  Chesapeake  Bay, 
and  he  hastily  sent  back  the  joyful  tidings  to  Philadel- 
phia, where  it  was  hailed  with  the  ringing  of  bells, 
parading  bands,  and  mighty  revelry  in  the  taverns  and 
tap-rooms.  On  the  5th  of  September,  the  army  boarded 
waiting  ships  at  the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay  and 
dropped  down  to  Yorktown.     It  took  thirteen  days  to 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       1851 

make  the  voyage,  which  is  now  accomplished  by  steamer 
in  a  few  hours. 

Good  fortune,  or  fate,  played  a  determining  part  in 
the  operations  leading  up  to  the  climax  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution.  De  Grasse,  on  leaving  the  West 
Indies  for  North  America,  had  been  hotly  pursued  by 
Admiral  Hood  with  an  English  fleet  of  inferior  quality. 
But  Hood  was  one  of  the  dashing  sea-fighters  of  the 
days  of  war  in  which  England  won  that  primacy  on  the 
high  seas  that  has  never  been  wrested  from  her.  His 
superior  in  command,  Admiral  Rodney,  one  of  Eng- 
land's patriotic  sailors,  had  been  invalided  home,  and 
Hood  was  naturally  eager  to  seize  upon  this  moment 
to  win  a  victory  and  make  a  name.  Had  he  overtaken 
the  French  he  would  have  given  them  battle  and  possi- 
bly have  cut  them  up  so  badly  that  they  would  have  been 
unfit  for  cooperation  with  Washington  and  Rocham- 
beau.  But  his  very  dash  proved  his  undoing,  for  so 
eagerly  did  he  pursue  his  foe  that  he  ran  by  the  French 
fleet  at  night  or  in  murky  weather,  and  cruised  on  up  the 
North  American  coast  looking  eagerly  for  the  enemy 
whom  he  had  left  behind.  He  entered  Chesapeake  Bay 
but  finding  no  French  fleet  dashed  on  to  New  York,  sure 
that  place  must  be  De  Grasse's  objective.  There  he 
found  Admiral  Graves  in  command  of  the  British  fleet 
and  the  two  combining  their  fleets,  returned  to  Chesa- 
peake Bay  as  fast  as  favoring  winds  could  urge  their 
vessels. 

The  moment  of  Hood's  arrival  at  New  York  was 
dramatic.  The  situation  was  big  with  vital  importance 
to  the  new  nation.  Clinton,  vaguely  disquieted  by  the 
disappearance  of  Washington  from  the  West  Point 
neighborhood,  had  no  idea  where  he  had  gone  nor  any 
facts  on  which  to  base  a  conjecture  as  to  the  American 
commander's  strategy.  He  knew,  of  course,  that  Corn- 
wallis  was  at  Yorktown,  but  with  the  British  in  control 


186         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  the  sea,  he  could  be  in  no  better  place.  He  was  well 
fortified,  and  if  Washington  should  be  successful  in  an 
attack  on  his  works  he  could  still  load  his  men  on  trans- 
ports and  bring  them  up  to  New  York.  Meanwhile, 
it  would  be  easy  for  Clinton  to  send  him  reinforcements 
by  sea,  and  this  he  was  preparing  to  do  when  the  news 
brought  by  Hood  put  an  entirely  new  face  upon  the  sit- 
uation. With  the  French  in  control  of  Chesapeake 
Bay,  there  could  be  no  retreat,  nor  any  reinforcements 
for  Cornwallis.  If  Washington  hesitated  to  attack  the 
English  works,  he  could  sit  down  placidly  and  watch 
them  starve  into  submission.  The  trap  was  sprung. 
It  could  be  opened  in  only  two  ways — either  by  the  de- 
feat of  Washington  for  which  the  available  British 
force  was  inadequate,  or  by  the  destruction  of  the 
French  fleet  and  this  task  Admirals  Graves  and  Hood 
undertook  but  not  too  hopefully. 

Their  combined  fleets  reached  the  mouth  of  Chesa- 
peake Bay  the  very  day  that  Washington  began  em- 
barking his  troops  at  its  head.  The  French  fleet  was 
found  and  attacked  without  hesitation.  What  English 
victory  in  that  battle  would  have  meant  to  the  Ameri- 
can cause  can  be  seen  clearly.  Not  only  would  the 
way  have  been  open  for  the  escape  or  the  reinforce- 
ment of  Cornwallis,  but  the  lighter  ships  of  the  vic- 
torious British  fleet  might  have  pushed  on  up  the  bay  to 
where  Washington  was  coming  down  in  unarmed  trans- 
ports and  either  compelled  his  surrender  or  annihilated 
him.  The  American  cause  saw  many  crucial  mo- 
ments but  there  seems  to  have  been  the  climax 
of  them  all.  But  again  fate  was  with  the  strug- 
gling Colonists.  After  a  two  hours'  sea  fight  the  British 
withdrew,  about  seven  hundred  men  having  been  killed 
or  wounded  in  the  two  fleets.  In  a  sense  the  battle 
was  indecisive  for  there  was  but  little  damage  inflicted 
on  either  contestant,  though  the  British  did,  indeed, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       187 

burn  one  frigate  which  was  too  badly  crippled  to  be 
seaworthy.  But  in  a  broader  sense  it  was  the  decisive 
victory  of  the  war,  for  the  withdrawal  of  the  British 
fleet  sealed  the  fate  of  Cornwallis,  and  the  loss  of  his 
army  meant  the  loss  of  the  colonies  to  King  George. 

Of  the  disaster  in  store  for  him,  Cornwallis  had  at 
this  moment  no  premonition.  Lafayette's  lines  before 
him  shut  off  all  information  of  the  approach  of  Wash- 
ington, but  as  soon  as  the  French  troops  from  the  fleet 
had  been  landed,  the  young  Frenchman,  "  the  boy,"  as 
Cornwallis  had  airily  called  him,  came  farther  down 
the  Peninsula  and  extended  his  lines  across  it  at  its  nar- 
rowest point  near  Williamsburg.  That  was  the  last 
chance  for  Cornwallis  to  escape.  He  was  still  strong 
enough  to  attack  "  the  boy  "  with  a  fair  chance  of  vic- 
tory, and  had  he  known  of  Washington's  approach 
he  would  certainly  have  done  so.  But  ignorant  of  that 
vital  factor,  he  contented  himself  with  strengthening 
his  earthworks,  and  settled  down  to  await  the  return 
of  Graves  who,  he  felt  sure,  would  speedily  collect  a 
naval  force  strong  enough  to  drive  away  the  French 
fleet.  While  he  was  thus  quiescent  Washington  arrived 
and  took  command.  When  his  army  had  all  been  con- 
centrated, he  had  sixteen  thousand  men  at  Williams- 
burg, and  the  fate  of  the  British  was  sealed. 

Yet  there  was  still  a  possibility  of  disaster  to  the 
Patriot  cause.  Washington  had  the  cards,  but  it 
was  his  task  to  play  them  rightly.  De  Grasse  was 
getting  nervous.  He  had  heard  that  the  fall  was  the 
season  of  hurricanes,  he  feared  the  return  of  the  British 
in  greater  numbers,  he  liked  better  the  balmy  air  of 
the  West  Indies,  and  proposed  seriously  to  sail  thither 
leaving  but  two  ships  to  cooperate  with  Washington. 
The  latter  argued  and  implored.  He  had  to  push 
forward  the  siege  of  Yorktown  in  front,  and  plead  all 
the  time  with  the  French  admiral  not  to  open  the  back 


188         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

door  to  Cornwallis's  escape.  The  Frenchman  seemed 
hardly  to  comprehend  how  epochal  was  the  impending 
victory  in  which  he  had  the  opportunity  to  participate. 
While  he  was  still  arguing,  Washington  pushed  for- 
ward his  parallels  and  approaches.  Alexander  Hamil- 
ton and  the  Vicomte  de  Viomeuil  carried  two  of  the 
redoubts  by  storm.  More  than  seventy  cannon  were 
pounding  away  at  the  British  works  and  on  the  17th  of 
October,  the  fourth  anniversary  of  Burgoyne's  sur- 
render, Cornwallis  hoisted  the  white  flag.  That  very 
day  Sir  Henry  Clinton  sailed  from  New  York  with 
25  ships-of-the-line,  10  frigates  and  7,000  of  his  best 
troops,  arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  Chesapeake  five 
days  too  late.  Had  Washington  wavered,  or  delayed 
in  pressing  the  attack,  the  battle  that  ended  the  War 
of  the  Revolution  might  never  have  been  fought,  or  if 
fought,  might  have  ended  disastrously  to  the  American 
cause. 

For  Yorktown  marked  the  end  of  the  war.  With 
it  Cornwallis  surrendered  an  army  of  7,247  with  840 
seamen,  their  colors  and  arms.  To  General  Lincoln, 
whom  Cornwallis  had  captured  at  Charleston,  the  Brit- 
ish commander  was  now  forced  to  surrender  his  own 
sword,  and  he  showed  how  little  he  liked  the  ceremony 
by  pleading  illness  and  making  his  submission  in  his 
sick  room.  For  some  reason  the  British  had  always 
found  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  playing  their  enemy's 
tunes,  seeming  to  think  it  a  sort  of  taunt.  Accordingly, 
when  the  details  of  the  surrender  came  to  be  deter- 
mined, the  Americans  stipulated  that  the  English  bands 
must  play  an  English  or  a  German  tune — for  because 
of  the  hired  Hessians  the  Americans  took  pleasure  in 
harping  upon  England's  debt  to  Germany.  But  while 
this  condition  was  duly  observed,  some  humorist  in  the 
British  camp  robbed  it  of  much  of  its  ignominy,  for  the 
tune  selected  for  the  final  march  out  of  the  surrendered 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       189 

army  was  no  national  air,  but  a  popular  tune  much  in 
vogue  at  the  time  called,  "  The  World  Turned  Upside 
Down!" 

Indeed  when  the  news  of  this  defeat  reached  London, 
the  King  and  his  ministers  thought  that  the  world  must 
have  fallen  into  that  topsy-turvy  state.  After  five 
years  of  effort,  the  British  endeavors  to  repress  the 
rebellious  Colonists  had  ended  just  where  they  began. 
Cornwallis's  attempt  at  the  subjugation  of  Virginia  had 
turned  out  as  did  Pitcairn's  march  on  Lexington,  only 
a  little  more  disastrously.  Four  years  to  a  day  after 
England's  first  great  army  of  invasion  under  Burgoyne 
surrendered  at  Saratoga,  the  white  flag  fluttered  over 
the  redoubts  at  Yorktown.  Cornwallis,  in  all  his  South- 
ern campaigns,  had  not  lost  a  battle,  yet  wound  up  in 
crushing  defeat.  Greene,  who  had  been  sent  by  Wash- 
ington with  a  puny  force  to  give  aid  and  succor  to  the 
South,  had  not  won  a  battle  yet  he  had  redeemed  Geor- 
gia and  the  Carolinas  and  lured  Cornwallis  to  his  doom. 
Such  results  could  have  followed  only  in  a  land  the 
dominant  spirit  of  which  was  loyalty  to  the  Patriot 
cause.  The  news  reached  England  at  a  moment  when, 
even  without  it,  the  fortunes  of  that  nation  seemed, 
indeed,  in  a  desperate  strait.  She  was  at  war  with 
France,  Holland,  Spain,  her  subjects  in  India  and  her 
colonies  in  America.  The  King,  stubborn  in  defeat, 
demanded  that  the  war  go  on,  but  Lord  North  no  less 
committed  to  the  policy  of  oppression  which  had  roused 
the  colonies  to  revolt,  recognized  the  completeness  of 
the  disaster  and  cried  in  despair,  "  It  is  all  over."  In 
Parliament  the  opposition  party,  headed  by  Fox  and 
Pitt,  openly  rejoiced  over  the  news  of  Yorktown  and  a 
resolution  declaring  further  efforts  to  coerce  the  Ameri- 
cans inexpedient  failed  by  but  forty-seven  votes. 
Brought  up  again  on  February  22 — Washington's 
birthday  by  a  significant  coincidence — it  came  within  one 


i9o         STORY   OFOUR  ARMY 

vote  of  success,  and  five  days  later  was  passed  and 
Lord  North's  ministry  fell.  With  the  subsequent  po- 
litical events  that  culminated  in  the  Treaty  of  Paris 
and  American  independence  this  Story  of  Our  Army 
has  nothing  to  do. 

But  while  the  politicians  and  the  diplomats  abroad 
were  trying  to  bring  order  out  of  war's  chaos  Wash- 
ington, at  home,  was  striving  to  make  doubly  sure  the 
victory  he  had  won.  There  was  no  certainty  that  York- 
town  betokened  the  end.  The  British  still  held  New 
York,  Charleston,  and  some  lesser  Southern  ports,  and 
Washington  tried  to  persuade  De  Grasse  to  cooperate 
with  him  in  an  attack  on  Charleston.  But  the  French- 
man, for  no  particular  reason,  demurred  and  went  back 
to  his  cruising  in  the  West  Indies,  where  in  the  following 
April  Admiral  Rodney,  restored  to  health,  fell  upon 
him  and  totally  defeated  him.  Though  his  name  was 
linked  with  the  victory  that  put  a  new  nation  on  the 
map,  it  became  also  identified  in  France  with  one  of 
that  nation's  greatest  naval  disasters.  Better  far 
would  it  have  been  for  his  fame  had  he  responded  to 
the  overtures  of  Washington  and  joined  in  finally 
sweeping  the  British  from  the  coast  of  America.  The 
combined  French  and  American  forces  could  have  ac- 
complished this  beyond  doubt.  As  it  is,  while  the 
victory  at  Yorktown  was  undoubtedly  due  to  French 
naval  support,  history  will  ever  record  that  that  support 
was  given  but  grudgingly  by  the  French  commander, 
and  that  at  the  crucial  moment  it  required  the  earnest, 
almost  passionate  appeals  of  Washington  to  dissuade 
him  from  sailing  away  on  the  very  eve  of  the  victory. 
The  French  have  always  been  insistent  upon  their  share 
of  the  glory  of  Yorktown,  but  there,  as  in  the  case  of 
D'Estaing,  at  Newport,  the  foibles  and  jealousy  of  the 
commander  militated  against  the  best  service  and  even 
put  victory  in  jeopardy. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       191 

Had  Congress  had  its  own  way,  or  for  that  matter, 
had  the  various  local  governments  been  relied  upon, 
the  colonies  would  have  been  left  naked  to  their  enemies 
immediately  upon  the  downfall  of  Cornwallis.  There 
could  be  no  assurance  that  the  war  was  ended.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  was  not  ended  until  the  Treaty  of 
Paris,  nine  months  later.  But  Congress  acted  as 
though,  indeed,  as  Lord  North  had  wailed,  "  all  was 
over."  Though  Washington  wrote  repeatedly,  and 
made  appeals  in  person  that  action  should  be  taken 
to  continue  the  war,  Congress  made  no  response.  Even 
more.  It  failed  to  pay  the  soldiers  for  their  services, 
and  even  discussed  the  proposition  of  mustering  them 
out  without  payment  for  the  past  or  provision  for  the 
future.  Washington  protested  with  hot  indignation. 
The  cruel  injustice  of  the  proposition  affronted  his  sense 
of  honor,  the  danger  in  it  aroused  his  grave  apprehen- 
sions. The  army  was  not  a  great  one,  but  it  was  the 
one  coherent  armed  force  in  the  land.  If  it  chose  to 
set  itself  up  as  the  sole  source  of  power,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  oppose  it  effectively.  It  was  quite  capable, 
should  the  spirit  seize  upon  it,  of  reenacting  the  deeds 
of  the  Praetorian  guards,  or  Cromwell's  army.  In 
fact,  the  situation  in  the  infant  Confederacy  in  1782, 
was  just  that  which  we  have  observed  in  some  of  the 
Central  American  governments  where  independence 
won  by  the  sword  has  resulted  in  a  military  despotism, 
because  of  the  inability  of  the  civil  government  to  meet 
the  just  demands  of  the  soldiers.  There  is  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  overtures  were  made  to  Washing- 
ton to  make  himself  dictator  with  the  Continental  army 
at  his  back.  And  it  would  have  been  easy  for  him  to 
stifle  his  democratic  instincts  with  the  plea  that  in  this 
emergency  a  savior  of  his  country  was  needed,  one  who 
could  bring  order  out  of  chaos,  set  the  machinery  of 
democracy  in  perfect  order,  and  then  retire  to  let  it  do 


i92         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

its  perfect  work.  Perhaps  no  military  dictator  ever  as- 
sumed power  except  on  the  plea  that  he  was  undertaking 
a  purely  temporary  duty.  But  once  installed,  they  are 
ever  hard  to  dislodge.  Washington  met  all  such  prop- 
ositions with  stern  disapproval.  Though  he  sympa- 
thized with  the  ill-treated  army,  he  sternly  repressed 
any  threats  of  a  military  uprising. 

The  time  came  when  something  more  than  the  quiet 
exercise  of  his  influence  through  personal  interviews 
was  necessary  to  repress  the  rising  storms.  An  artfully 
written  address,  setting  forth  the  wrongs  and  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  soldiers  and  the  impotence  or  ingratitude  of 
Congress  was  circulated  widely  throughout  the  camps, 
and  was  having  its  effect.  It  frankly  called  the  army  to 
action  and  counselled  force.  Discussions  of  the  policy 
thus  advocated  were  common  in  every  camp.  Even 
with  officers  present  the  discussion  of  a  general  mutiny 
was  open.  Washington  set  himself  to  stay  the  storm. 
In  general  orders,  read  to  every  command  in  the  army, 
he  condemned  the  address.  More  than  that  he  called 
a  meeting  of  his  officers  and  rising,  took  out  his  glasses, 
saying,  "  You  see,  gentlemen,  I  have  grown  both  blind 
and  gray  in  your  service,"  after  which  he  began  his 
appeal.  It  was  an  earnest  adjuration  to  the  army  not 
to  sully  its  glorious  record  of  endurance  and  achieve- 
ment by  a  conclusion  in  mutiny  and  revolt.  He  begged 
them  to  retain  confidence  in  the  government  they  had 
defended  and  promised  that  he  would  see  that  that 
government  acted  with  justice.  His  great  influence 
turned  the  scale.  The  advocates  of  an  uprising  were 
for  a  time  silenced.  Before  they  could  renew  their 
plotting,  Congress  had  acted — belatedly  and  ungener- 
ously, but  still  in  a  way  to  quiet  the  most  bitter  com- 
plaints. The  soldiers  were  sent  to  their  homes,  with 
their  half-pay  commuted  to  a  lump  sum,  with  land  war- 
rants in  further  payment  for  their  services,  and  with 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       193 

the  old  flint  locks  that  had  served  them  so  well  for  the 
five  years  as  memorials  of  a  not  over-grateful  country. 
It  was  1783  before  peace  was  actually  proclaimed, 
though  it  had  existed  in  fact  since  shortly  after  the 
downfall  of  Cornwallis.     In  November  of  that  year, 
the  British  set  sail  from  the  Battery  in  New  York  and 
Washington  with  his  tattered  Continentals  marched  in. 
By  way  of  a  final  taunt,  the  departing  troops  had  nailed 
a  British  ensign  to  a  staff  on  the  Battery  and  slushed 
the  pole  so  that  it  tested  the  ingenuity  of  a  group  of 
sailors  to  get  the  repudiated  bit  of  bunting  down.    That 
was  the  final  dramatic  act  of  the  war.     But  the  end 
of  the  Continental  army,  the  germ  of  our  regular  army 
of  to-day  may  be  said  to  have  come  when  Washington 
took  leave  of  his  officers  in  the  dining  hall  of  Fraunce's 
Tavern,  which  still  stands  in  Broad  Street,  New  York. 
There,  after  that  Farewell  Address  which  is  cherished 
as  one  of  our  ablest  state  papers,  the  commander-in- 
chief  pressed  the  hand  of  each  officer,  and  as  later  his 
barge  faded  from  their  sight  on  the  broad  waters  of 
New  York  Bay,  they  turned  each  to  his  individual  call- 
ing.   The  Continental  army  was  no  more. 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  War  of  1812 — Lack  of  Military  Resources— Reverses  on  the 
Canadian  Border — Battle  of  Queenstown — Cockburn  on  the 
Chesapeake — The  Capture  of  Washington — Battle  of  New  Or- 
leans— The  Treaty  of  Ghent. 

Ever  since  history  began  to  be  made  in  America,  be- 
fore the  creation  of  the  United  States,  indeed,  our  peo- 
ple have  feared  a  large  standing  army.  In  the  days  of 
Washington  and  Jefferson,  as  in  the  later  days  of 
Roosevelt,  popular  reliance  for  defence  has  always  been 
placed  upon  that  "  well-ordered  militia  "  which  has 
become  almost  a  fetich  among  us,  but  which  has  usually 
figured  more  gloriously  in  stump  speeches  than  on  the 
battle  field.  Morgan  at  the  Cowpens  recognized  the 
inevitable  and  bluffly  told  the  militiamen  he  had  posted 
on  the  first  line,  "  Just  hold  up  your  heads  boys;  three 
fires  and  you  are  free."  In  battle  and  skirmish,  it  was 
almost  the  regular  thing  for  the  militia  to  run  away, 
until  the  example  of  steadiness  set  by  the  regulars  en- 
couraged them  to  stand  their  ground.  Between  1776 
and  1 86 1,  the  militia  ran  away  or  mutinied  in  no  less 
than  thirty  battles  or  marches.  This  record  does  not 
mean  to  imply  that  militiamen  are  made  of  other  stuff 
than  regulars.  Humanity  is  much  alike  and  courage  is 
not  put  on  with  any  particular  kind  of  uniform.  But 
the  professional  is  usually  more  efficient  than  the  ama- 
teur, and  long  years  of  drill,  the  enforced  habit  of 
obedience,  and  above  all,  the  familiarity  of  the  regular 
with  scenes  of  battle  and  bloodshed  make  him  more 
trustworthy  than  the  militiaman  when  the  guns  begin 
to  play.  In  a  long  war  the  militiamen  who  remain  in 
service  throughout  get  to  be  as  steady  and  dependable 

194 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       195 

as  the  regulars  themselves.  This  was  particularly  the 
case  in  our  Civil  War,  which  was  fought  on  the  part  of 
the  North  by  2,605,341  militia  and  volunteers,  and  only 
about  67,000  regulars.  Notwithstanding  the  difference 
in  efficiency,  the  militia  have  always  been  the  more 
popular  with  the  people.  Their  doings  and  achieve- 
ments in  time  of  war  furnish  themes  for  countless  songs 
of  praise.  "  I  ain't  no  hero,  I'm  just  a  regular,"  said 
a  trooper  in  the  Spanish  War,  who  was  disgusted  by 
popular  adulation  for  an  act  which  to  him  was  all  in 
the  day's  work. 

The  day  after  Washington  delivered  his  Farewell 
Address,  the  whole  Continental  army  was  disbanded, 
with  the  exception  of  one  regiment  of  infantry  and 
two  battalions  of  artillery,  retained  to  guard  public 
property  and  stationed  at  West  Point.  One  of  these 
batteries,  raised  originally  by  Alexander  Hamilton,  has 
remained  in  continued  service — Battery  F,  of  the 
Fourth  Regiment  of  Artillery.  During  the  days  of 
the  Confederacy,  prior  to  the  adoption  of  the  Con- 
stitution in  1789,  Congress  made  spasmodic  efforts  to 
keep  a  small  regular  force  in  the  field.  There  was  oc- 
casional need  for  such  a  body.  Indian  troubles  required 
constant  vigilance  on  the  frontier;  and  in  1786,  Shay's 
Rebellion,  in  the  course  of  which  two  thousand  insur- 
gents, clamorous  for  paper  money  and  resisting  the 
collection  of  debts,  marched  on  the  Springfield  arsenal 
but  were  dispersed  by  the  artillery  stationed  there. 
Later  still  the  so-called  Whiskey  Insurrection  required 
the  employment  of  troops  from  the  eastern  colonies 
to  overawe  the  rebellious  mountaineers  of  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee  among  whom  whiskey  was  almost  as 
much  of  a  circulating  medium  as  a  beverage.  It  was 
practically  their  only  manufactured  product  and  a  tax 
upon  it  appeared  to  them  more  tyrannous  than  the  tax 
upon  tea  that  drove  the  colonies  into  rebellion.     But 


i96         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

in  the  main,  domestic  insurrection  and  Indian  outbreaks 
alike  were  resisted  by  militia,  and  there  were  enough 
such  occasions  to  demonstrate  how  very  insufficient  a 
force  for  order  and  mutual  defence  this  was. 

When  the  mutterings  of  the  second  war  with  Eng- 
land began  to  be  heard,  the  standing  army  of  the 
United  States  was  but  6,744  strong.  Even  this  force 
had  been  gathered  with  difficulty.  Congress  was  not 
enamored  of  the  idea  of  a  standing  army.  When  the 
proposition  to  increase  the  force  to  35,000  men  was 
first  broached  in  that  body,  the  fiery  John  Randolph, 
of  Roanoke,  vehemently  denounced  the  project  of  sub- 
mitting the  liberties  of  American  citizens  to  the  guar- 
dianship of  mercenaries  gathered  up  in  taverns  and 
brothels.  But  when  he  saw  the  day  going  against 
him,  he  urged  an  amendment  to  the  bill  providing  that 
in  time  of  peace  the  army  be  engaged  in  works  of 
general  utility— building  roads,  digging  drainage  ditches 
and  improving  harbors.  The  Virginian's  proposition 
was  bitterly  denounced  as  tending  to  degrade  the  sol- 
diers to  the  level  of  convicts,  but  it  had  in  it  an  element 
of  reason.  The  professional  work  on  the  Panama 
Canal  has  just  been  completed  by  United  States  army 
engineers,  and  the  success  of  that  undertaking  will  un- 
doubtedly lead  to  the  commitment  of  public  work  to 
army  supervision  in  a  continually  increasing  degree. 

Looking  backward  one  is  amazed  at  the  calm  con- 
fidence with  which  the  Congress  of  the  United  States 
declared  war  upon  Great  Britain.  Nothing  was 
thought  of  but  an  offensive  campaign  and  a  brilliant 
series  of  victories.  It  was  admitted  that  we  had  no 
navy  to  cope  with  that  of  Great  Britain,  but  it  was 
predicted  that  American  privateers  would  sweep  British 
commerce  from  the  ocean — a  prediction  that  was  fairly 
well  fulfilled.  A  navy  maintained  at  private  cost,  that 
is  to  say,  privately  owned  vessels  fighting  for  prize 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       197 

money,  and  an  army  mainly  composed  of  volunteers, 
with  a  core,  so  to  speak,  of  regulars  was  the  description 
congressional  orators  gave  of  the  forces  that  were  to 
abase  British  pride.  "The  acquisition  of  Canada  this 
year,"  wrote  Jefferson  from  the  scholarly  seclusion  of 
Monticello,  "  as  far  as  the  neighborhood  of  Quebec, 
will  be  a  mere  matter  of  marching,  and  will  give  us 
experience  for  the  attack  of  Halifax,  and  next  the 
final  expulsion  of  the  British  from  the  American  con- 
tinent. " 

Alas  for  the  philosopher's  hopes!  The  American 
forces  never  even  menaced  Quebec  or  Halifax,  and  as 
for  the  "  mere  matter  of  marching"  on  Canadian  soil, 
the  motley  forces  of  the  young  republic  never  got  far 
out  of  sound  of  the  rushing  waters  of  the  Detroit  and 
Niagara  Rivers.  To  provide  for  this  military  pro- 
gramme the  United  States  had  about  four  thousand 
regulars  under  arms  and  fit  for  service,  but  widely  scat- 
tered. The  law  authorized  the  increase  of  the  regular 
force  by  10,000  men,  the  enrollment  of  50,000  volun- 
teers, and  the  shifting  to  national  service  of  100,000 
militia  from  the  various  states.  But  the  enactment  of 
the  law  was  the  least  part  of  the  business.  Enlistments 
were  slow  in  every  branch  of  the  service.  A  man  who 
enlisted  in  the  regular  army  for  five  years  was  given  a 
bounty  of  sixteen  dollars,  and  promised  food,  clothing, 
and  five  dollars  a  month  for  the  period  of  his  service. 
At  the  expiration  of  his  service  he  was  to  receive  fifteen 
dollars  in  cash  and  160  acres  of  land.  But  at  the 
end  of  three  months  barely  4,000  had  enlisted.  Of 
the  50,000  militia  called  for,  barely  one-twelfth  came 
forward.  Local  sentiment  concerning  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  war  varied  greatly,  and  while  in  some 
quarters  heavy  bounties  were  offered  to  induce  enlist- 
ments, in  others  the  war  fever  was  so  strong  that  a 
draft  was  actually  needed  to  select  those  who  should 


198         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

stay  at  home.  In  general,  however,  enlistments  were 
slow,  and  when  the  regular  army  numbered  36,000  on 
paper,  it  had  less  than  4,000  men  in  fact.  The  situa- 
tion was  by  no  means  improved  by  the  contention  of 
certain  states  that  Congress  had  no  right  to  call  out 
the  militia  unless  the  governor  of  the  state  furnishing 
the  troops  agreed  that  the  necessity  for  them  existed. 
The  governors  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  de- 
nied that  there  was  such  need,  and  refused  to  issue  the 
call.  Later  the  militia  of  both  Ohio  and  New  York 
refused  to  cross  into  Canada,  in  the  face  of  an  enemy, 
on  the  plea  that  they  were  not  bound  to  serve  in  a 
foreign  land.  This  question  of  the  duties  and  rights 
of  the  militia  harassed  our  commanders  throughout 
the  war. 

Despite  their  military  weakness,  the  American  people 
rushed  confidently,  almost  gaily  into  the  war.  Hardly 
had  war  been  formally  declared,  when  the  cry  was 
raised,  "  On  to  Canada,"  and  the  military  authorities 
gave  it  instant  heed.  The  whole  nation  agreed  with 
Thomas  Jefferson  that  to  overrun  Canada  as  far  as 
Quebec  would  merely  give  the  army  needed  practice  in 
marching,  but  the  country  ignored  the  fact  that  by  the 
possession  of  a  few  armed  ships  on  the  lakes,  the  Brit- 
ish controlled  water  transportation  and  could  thus 
convey  their  troops  and  munitions  of  war  from  place  to 
place  with  comparative  expedition,  while  the  Americans 
were  laboriously  cutting  roads  through  the  forests  and 
bridging  swamps. 

The  plan  of  campaign  laid  out  for  the  first  year  of 
the  war  was  limited  to  the  subjugation  of  Canada. 
It  comprehended  the  same  elements  of  weakness  that 
brought  disaster  to  Burgoyne  in  the  Revolution.  Three 
expeditions  were  to  invade  Canada,  one  starting  from 
Detroit,  one  crossing  the  Niagara  River  near  its  mouth, 
and  the  third  proceeding  into  the  enemy's  country  by 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       199 

way  of  Lake  George  and  Lake  Champlain — the  old 
route  down  which  Burgoyne  had  come  to  New  York 
filled  with  high  hopes  and  destined  to  dismal  disaster. 

It  seems  ever  the  failing  of  a  weak  belligerent  to 
plan  its  offensive  movements  on  a  scale  far  beyond  its 
military  capacity.  So  it  was  with  the  United  States  in 
18 12.  The  instinct  that  led  those  who  planned  the 
grand  strategy  to  order  an  invasion  of  Canada  was  a 
true  one.  To  force  the  fighting  in  the  enemy's  country 
was  the  best  way  to  dismay  the  foe  and  make  the  war 
popular  at  home.  But  the  strategy  was  too  grand  for 
the  forces  at  hand  to  give  it  effect.  One  expedition 
into  Canada  might  have  succeeded — the  three  failed. 

Detroit  was  then  a  mere  military  post  where  the 
great  city  of  that  name  now  spreads  far  up  and  down 
the  matchless  river.  It  was  the  true  frontier  of  the 
United  States,  though  at  Michilimachinac,  which  sum- 
mer tourists  know  as  Mackinaw,  and  at  Fort  Dearborn 
standing  at  the  mouth  of  the  now  busy  Chicago  River, 
there  were  isolated  army  posts.  General  William 
Hull,  who  had  rendered  distinguished  services  in  the 
Revolution,  was  Governor  of  the  Territory  of  Michi- 
gan, and  at  the  first  rumors  of  war  Congress  made  him 
a  brigadier-general,  and  put  him  in  command  of  about 
two  thousand  troops  in  Ohio  with  orders  to  take  them 
to  Detroit  for  service  against  the  Indians.  Events 
proved  that  age  and  perhaps  a  native  tendency  to  vacil- 
lation, made  Hull  no  man  for  the  work  allotted  to  him, 
but  until  submitted  to  the  test  he  had  the  confidence  of 
the  government  and  of  the  country.  When  war  was 
declared  on  June  18,  Hull  was  in  complete  ignorance 
of  the  fact,  and  so  remained  until  the  2d  of  July.  The 
English  commanders  in  Canada  were  better  served  by 
their  government,  so  that  when  Hull,  thinking  to  ex- 
pedite matters,  loaded  all  his  personal  and  military 
papers  into  a  great  chest  and  shipped  them  by  schooner 


200         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

to  Detroit,  never  dreaming  of  hostile  interference,  the 
Canadians  captured  the  craft  and  with  it  complete 
knowledge  of  his  plans  and  strength. 

Early  in  July,  however,  responding  to  orders  from 
Washington,  Hull  crossed  into  Canada  and  took  pos- 
session of  Maiden  about  fifteen  miles  below  Detroit. 
It  was  then,  as  it  long  has  been,  a  favorite  delusion  of 
the  people  of  the  United  States  that  the  Canadians 
were  restive  under  the  British  government  and  eager 
for  an  opportunity  to  link  their  fortunes  with  those  of 
"  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 
Hull,  as  much  a  prey  to  this  delusion  as  any,  signalized 
his  seizure  of  Maiden  by  a  proclamation  asking  the 
Canadians  to  rally  about  his  standand — a  trumpet  blast 
that  fell  upon  indifferent  ears.     Fort  Maiden,  which 
General  Hull  menaced  with  proclamations — and  never 
with  any  more  serious  missiles,  held  a  small  British 
force.     It  was  a  mere  stockade,  erected  originally  as 
a  defence  against  the  Indians,  but  Hull  hesitated  long 
about  assaulting  it.     He  had  no  artillery,  and  three- 
fourths  of  his  men  were  raw  militiamen.     True,  they 
clamored  to  be  led  against  the  enemy  and  even  showed 
signs  of  mutiny  as  the  period  of  inaction  dragged  on. 
But  while  the  colonel  of  one  regular  regiment  reported 
his  men  quite  fit  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  assault,  the 
three  militia  colonels  expressed  doubt  as  to  the  conduct 
of  their  untrained  levies.     Being  in  doubt,'  Hull  did 
nothing—thereby  encouraging  the  enemy,  and  greatly 
disheartening  his  own  army.     In  all  he  had  about  1,600 
effective   men,    about  300  being  regulars,   while   the 
enemy  was  of  about  equal  strength  with  280  regulars 
and  about  230  Indians.     There  is  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  had  Hull  attacked  promptly  he  would  have 
carried  the  British  post,  a  success  the  value  of  which 
may  be  judged  by  his  statement  to  the  Secretary  of 
War  in  a  letter:  "  If  Maiden  was  in  our  possession,  I 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       201 

could  march  this  army  to  Niagara  or  York  (Toronto) 
in  a  short  time." 

But  Maiden  was  not  destined  to  American  occupa- 
tion. While  Hull  hesitated  the  Canadians,  who  at 
first  had  seemed  either  affrighted  by  or  indifferent  to 
the  American  invasion,  began  to  show  signs  of  hostility. 
Foraging  parties  that,  at  first,  had  met  with  no  resis- 
tance, began  to  encounter  sharp  opposition.  The 
"  embattled  farmers  "  were  against  the  Americans  this 
time  and  the  stone-walls  around  Sandwich  spat  out 
bullets  at  Hull's  men  as  had  those  around  Lexington  at 
the  British  invaders  nearly  forty  years  before.  Mean- 
while the  British  were  strengthening  their  works,  and 
were  reenforced  by  about  sixty  men  from  Fort  Niagara. 
To  further  discourage  the  Americans,  there  arrived  at 
Detroit  the  garrison  of  Fort  Mackinac  with  the  tidings 
of  the  downfall  of  that  frontier  post,  and  the  warning 
that  a  large  party  of  warriors  was  coming  down  the 
lake  to  attack  Detroit.  Irresolute  and  hesitant,  Hull 
abandoned  his  position  on  Canadian  soil  and  recrossed 
to  Detroit. 

Detroit  then  had  about  eight  hundred  inhabitants 
and  a  fort  by  the  riverside  made  up  of  earthworks  and 
a  double  stockade.  Strong  enough  in  itself,  the  fort 
was  not  one  which  could  withstand  a  protracted  siege, 
for  it  was  two  hundred  miles  from  any  point  whence 
reinforcements  or  supplies  might  be  drawn,  and  the 
road  was  exposed  to  British  attacks  by  water  or  Indian 
ambushments.  Hull  wished  to  abandon  the  post  and 
retreat  to  a  point  near  where  Toledo  now  stands,  but 
was  deterred  by  the  very  frank  declaration  of  his  Ohio 
colonels  that  their  troops  would  refuse  further 
obedience  if  he  showed  such  weakness.  The  British, 
quick  enough  to  detect  the  signs  of  vacillation  in  the 
American  camp,  sent  raiding  parties  across  the  river 
and  an  expedition  sent  out  by  Hull  to  open  communica- 


202         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

tions  with  Ohio  posts  was  attacked  by  a  force  of  British 
and  Indians  and,  though  victorious  in  the  skirmish,  re- 
turned to  the  fort  with  its  errand  undischarged. 

Daily  the  British  attitude  became  more  menacing, 
and  the  situation  within  the  American  lines  more  dis- 
creditable. Hull's  army  was  practically  in  revolt. 
The  militia  colonels  offered  to  arrest  the  general,  and 
give  the  command  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Miller,  of  the 
regulars,  but  that  officer  declined  to  accept  so  irregular 
a  promotion.  While  the  British  were  busy  erecting 
batteries  on  their  side  of  the  river,  the  Americans 
made  no  preparations  to  meet  the  attack  which  was 
clearly  foreshadowed.  Presently  fire  was  opened  from 
the  Canadian  shore,  which  could  have  been  of  but  little 
effect  with  the  then  primitive  artillery,  but  under 
cover  of  it,  General  Brock,  who  had  come  from 
Niagara  to  take  command  of  the  British  forces, 
crossed  the  river  about  2  miles  below  the  fort. 
Brock  had  330  regulars  and  400  militia,  with 
about  600  Indians  who  were  scattered  in  the 
forests  seeking  to  harass  about  350  Ohio  militia- 
men who  had  been  sent  out  the  day  before  to  bring 
up  some  supplies  which  were  about  35  miles  away. 
Hull  had  under  his  immediate  command  about  1,000 
men,  yet  with  this  superior  force,  he  permitted  the 
enemy  to  cross  a  swift  stream,  almost  a  mile  wide, 
and  make  a  landing  unopposed.  From  the  moment 
of  that  landing,  Hull  acted  as  one  paralyzed  with 
fear.  No  assault  was  necessary  to  make  the  British 
triumph  complete.  The  approach  of  a  mere  recon- 
noitring party  was  made  the  occasion  of  a  hasty 
display  of  the  white  flag,  and  Detroit,  the  fort, 
300  regular  officers  and  men,  and  about  2,000 
militia  were  surrendered  to  the  British.  As  only 
the  day  before  the  Indians  had  massacred  the  little 
American  garrison  at  Fort  Dearborn — a  massacre  com- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       203 

memorated  by  a  bronze  group  at  the  foot  of  Sixteenth 
Street  in  Chicago — the  frontier  of  the  United  States 
was  pushed  back  to  the  Wabash  and  Maumee  rivers, 
and  could  not  have  been  held  even  there  had  it  been 
seriously  menaced. 

Hull  was  court-martialled  for  treason  and  cowardice, 
found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  be  shot,  but  was  pardoned 
by  the  President  in  consideration  of  his  distinguished 
services  in  the  Revolution  and  because  of  extenuating 
circumstances.  These  circumstances  grew  out  of  the 
action  of  General  Henry  Dearborn,  in  command  of  the 
American  forces  in  the  East. 

Like  Hull,  General  Dearborn  was  now  of  advanced 
years,  and  of  peaceful  rather  than  warlike  habit.  He 
was,  indeed,  summoned  from  the  placid  and  profitable 
political  post  of  collector  of  the  port  of  Boston  to  take 
command  of  the  American  armies  in  the  East,  with 
headquarters  at  Albany.  His  orders  were  to  support 
Hull  by  making  a  determined  attack  upon  the  British 
at  Niagara,  where  General  Stephen  Van  Renssalaer  was 
in  command,  and  himself  to  organize  and  lead  with 
promptitude  an  invasion  of  Canada.  He  did  neither. 
On  the  contrary,  at  the  very  moment  when  Hull  was 
most  seriously  threatened  by  the  enemy,  Dearborn  en- 
tered upon  an  armistice  with  Prevost,  the  chief  British 
commander,  the  effect  of  which  was  to  release  General 
Brock  from  all  anxiety  concerning  any  American  attack 
upon  Niagara.  That  alert  general  took  advantage  of 
this  kindly  cessation  of  hostilities  to  rush  across  Canada 
to  the  Detroit  River,  overthrow  Hull  and  make  his 
army  prisoners  and  return  to  Niagara  before  the  ar- 
mistice was  concluded.  This  fatal  failure  of  Dearborn 
to  obey  his  orders  was  one  of  the  extenuating  circum- 
stances that  saved  the  life  of  Hull  after  his  death 
sentence  by  the  court-martial. 

On  the  Niagara  frontier,  as  on  that  fixed  by  the 


204         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

Detroit  River,  the  record  of  the  American  arms  was 
inglorious.  It  was  a  story  of  failure  when  all  con- 
ditions save  that  of  military  preparedness  and  vigor 
should  have  made  for  success.  The  American  troops, 
such  as  they  were,  made  their  camp  at  Lewiston,  where 
the  river  after  its  mad  plunge  through  Niagara  Gorge 
widens  into  a  broad  and  placid  estuary.  Here  in  Aug- 
ust, 1812 — four  days  after  Hull's  surrender,  though  of 
that  he  was  ignorant — General  Van  Renssalaer  found 
awaiting  him  about  one  thousand  men,  mostly  militia- 
men, half-clad,  ill-shod,  undrilled,  and  with  their  pay 
long  overdue.  If  there  was  military  zeal  in  the  army, 
these  conditions  did  much  to  obscure  it,  while  its  mani- 
festation by  an  immediate  attack  upon  the  enemy  would 
have  been  worse  than  futile,  for  there  were  no  cannon, 
no  cannoneers,  not  above  ten  rounds  of  ammuni- 
tion per  man,  and  no  lead  wherewith  to  make  more 
bullets. 

The  new  general's  first  task  was  to  mould  his  army 
into  military  form  and  this  he  did  with  some  measure 
of  success,  appealing  the  while  for  reinforcements  until 
he  had  increased  his  force  to  five  thousand  men,  includ- 
ing one  regiment  of  United  States  regulars.  The  spirit 
of  the  troops  was  high.  The  men  demanded  to  be  led 
against  the  foe,  and  their  martial  wrath  was  further 
excited  by  the  British,  who  vauntingly  paraded  the 
captives  brought  from  Detroit  on  the  river's  bank 
within  full  view  of  the  American  lines.  Those  cap- 
tives, by  the  way,  were  the  regular  soldiers  only,  the 
victorious  British  commander  having  scornfully  dis- 
missed to  their  homes  the  captured  militiamen. 

Queenstown,  the  British  post  directly  across  the  river 
from  Lewiston,  was  garrisoned  by  about  three  hundred 
men  only,  including  two  companies  of  British  regulars. 
That  looked  like  an  easy  morsel  for  Van  Renssalaer 
to  gobble.    On  the  night  of  October  10,  it  being  dark 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       205 

and  stormy,  the  Americans  essayed  to  cross  the  river 
and  gather  in  this  petty  handful  of  Britons.  Several 
hundred  men  huddled  together  on  the  beach,  guarding 
the  priming  of  their  guns  from  the  driving  rain,  and 
boasting  of  the  deeds  they  were  about  to  accomplish. 
One  boat,  loaded  to  the  limit,  pushed  off  and  disap- 
peared in  the  blackness.  They  bustled  to  make  ready 
a  second,  when  it  was  discovered  that  all  the  oars  for 
the  flotilla  had  been  carried  away  in  the  vanished  craft. 
To  call  it  back  by  shouts  would  be  to  alarm  the  enemy. 
So  wet  and  grumbling  the  warriors  watched  until  dawn 
broke,  and  were  marched  back  to  camp  mightily  dis- 
gusted with  their  leadership. 

The  next  day  the  enterprise  was  renewed  and  thir- 
teen boats  landed  twenty-five  men  each  on  the  Canadian 
shore  under  a  sharp  fire  from  the  enemy.  The  in- 
vaders, in  full  view  of  their  comrades  on  the  American 
side,  bore  themselves  well  under  fire,  and  drove  the 
Canadians  back  toward  Queenstown.  Fired  by  the  spec- 
tacle, some  four  hundred  more  crossed  from  the  Ameri- 
can side,  and  the  Canadians  rallying,  a  general  battle 
began  in  which  the  Americans  had  at  first  the  advantage 
of  numbers.  On  the  heights  above  Queenstown,  where 
now  Americans  making  the  Niagara  Gorge  trip  may  see 
a  towering  monument  commemorating  British  valor, 
was  a  battery  commanding  the  town  and  the  plains  be- 
low. A  gentle  slope  led  up  to  the  heights  on  the  land- 
ward side  but  toward  the  river  the  acclivity  was  so 
steep  that  Colonel  Brock,  the  victor  of  Detroit, 
thought  that  no  defence  on  that  side  was  needed. 
While  he  watched  the  battle  raging  on  the  plain  before 
him,  Captain  Wool  with  a  handful  of  American  regu- 
lars scaled  the  steep  front,  and  made  their  appearance 
within  the  works  so  suddenly  that  Brock  and  his  men 
escaped  capture  only  by  precipitate  flight. 

The  lodgment  thus  easily  effected  by  the  Americans 


206         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

was  of  the  highest  importance.  It  gave  the  Americans 
command  of  Queenstown  and  of  the  entrance  to  the 
Niagara  River.  Brock,  a  clear-headed  and  gallant  sol- 
dier, saw  its  value  and  determined  upon  its  recapture. 
With  a  hurriedly  marshalled  force  he  led  an  assault 
but  was  beaten  back.  Rallying  his  men  again,  this  time 
in  larger  numbers,  for  reinforcements  were  now  coming 
in  from  neighboring  British  posts,  he  led  the  way  a 
second  time  but  fell,  shot  through  the  lungs — a  gallant 
and  commanding  spirit  well  worthy  of  the  impressive 
monument  that  marks  the  spot  for  which  he  fought  so 
well.  Beyond  the  river,  on  the  American  side,  the 
militiamen  stood  by  the  brink  and  gazed  stupidly  across 
at  the  battle  raging.  Officers  breaking  away  from  the 
conflict  rushed  to  the  water-side  and  shouted  orders  that 
they  come  over  and  make  the  British  rout  complete. 
They  made  no  move,  but  with  murmurs  of  horror  and 
gestures  of  fear,  clustered  about  the  boats  that  were 
bringing  over  the  wounded  from  the  battle  field.  Van 
Renssalaer,  weak  from  four  wounds,  went  among  them 
begging  them  to  act  like  men  and  go  to  their  embattled 
comrades'  aid.  But  appeals  to  patriotism,  pride,  and 
manhood  were  unavailing.  From  a  body  of  soldiers 
they  became  a  pack  of  lawyers.  They  were  militiamen, 
they  declared,  and  as  such,  could  not  be  compelled  to 
serve  in  a  foreign  country.  The  spectacle  of  their 
countrymen  falling  before  the  fire  of  the  British  moved 
them  not  a  whit  from  their  inglorious  stand  upon  their 
strict  constitutional  rights.  Instead  they  watched  the 
British,  in  growing  numbers,  push  back  the  Americans 
to  the  river's  brink,  where,  as  none  of  the  poltroons 
gathered  on  the  American  side  had  courage  to  even 
bring  boats  for  their  escape,  they  were  forced  to  sur- 
render. In  the  engagement,  once  won  by  the  Ameri- 
cans, ninety  of  the  invaders  were  killed  and  about  nine 
hundred  surrendered.     Of  the  latter  it  is  recorded  that 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       207 

fully  350  were  skulkers  and  cowards  who  had  kept 
carefully  aloof  from  the  actual  fight. 

The  disaster  was  complete.  Van  Renssalaer,  who 
had  borne  himself  bravely,  resigned  in  wrath  at  the 
poltroonery  of  his  troops.  He  was  succeeded  by  Gen- 
eral Alexander  Smyth,  of  the  regular  army.  Smyth 
began  at  once  a  rapid  fire  of  proclamations,  and  soon 
gathered  a  force  of  about  4,500  regulars  and  volunteers 
at  Black  Rock,  about  three  miles  down  the  river 
from  Buffalo.  Another  invasion  of  Canada  was 
planned,  and  amidst  the  volley  of  proclamations  and 
orders  by  which  it  was  preceded,  Smyth  betrayed  his 
Irish  ancestry  by  a  "  bull,"  which  in  his  later  disaster 
became  famous.  "  The  soldiers,"  he  ordered,  "  will 
advance  with  shouts — and  charge  bayonets.  The  sol- 
diers will  remain  silent  above  all  things." 

But  slight  rhetorical  extravagances  of  this  sort  were 
the  least  of  Smyth's  blunders.  A  force  of  regulars  and 
sailors  having  crossed  the  river  and  spiked  the  guns 
of  the  battery  that  commanded  the  crossing,  the  way 
was  open  for  an  invasion  in  force.  The  army  there- 
fore began  to  embark.  The  soldiers  were  in  high 
spirits,  eager  for  the  enterprise,  but  scarcely  were  they 
ready  to  push  off  when  an  aide  galloped  to  the  river's 
edge  crying,  "  Fellow-soldiers,  the  expedition  is  given 
up."  No  explanation  was  given.  The  troops  were 
ordered  to  camp,  and  broke  out  in  bitter  denunciation 
of  Smyth.  He  heard  a  Canadian  bugle  blow  and  was 
afraid,  said  some.  Others  remembering  that  he  had 
ridiculed  Van  Renssalaer  for  a  mere  militiaman  said 
he  was  a  "  regular  Van  Bladder."  In  wrath  he  fixed 
another  day  for  the  invasion,  and  again  countermanded 
the  order  after  the  troops  were  afloat.  This  time  his 
life  was  in  actual  danger.  To  avoid  assault  he  had  his 
tent  pitched  in  the  centre  of  the  camp  of  regulars.  A 
militiaman  shot  at  him  on  the  street  in  Buffalo,  and 


208         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

General  Porter,  whom  he  had  designated  to  command 
the  ill-fated  expedition,  challenged  him  to  a  duel  in 
which  neither  was  injured.  In  the  end  he  retired  to  his 
estate  in  Virginia,  leaving  his  army  disorganized,  muti- 
nous, and  worthless  for  military  service. 

At  two  points — Detroit  and  Buffalo — that  invasion  of 
Canada  which  Jefferson  had  cheerfully  described  as  a 
"  mere  matter  of  marching,"  had  thus  failed,  and  had 
failed  with  ignominy  and  disgrace.  One  more  step  in 
the  grand  strategy  planned  by  Congress  remained  to 
be  taken — namely,  the  invasion  of  Canada  by  way  of 
Lake  George  and  the  attack  upon  Montreal.  This  was 
to  be  undertaken  under  the  direct  command  of  General 
Dearborn — an  officer  whose  repute  at  the  moment  must 
have  been  high  if  one  may  judge  by  the  number  of  forts, 
towns,  villages,  and  streets  in  the  Middle  West  which 
still  bear  his  name.  He  had  under  his  command  at 
Albany  some  six  thousand  troops,  and  with  some 
flourish  he  set  out  on  his  career  of  conquest.  It  was 
the  middle  of  November  but  the  lake  was  still  clear  of 
ice,  and  the  way  to  Montreal  was  open.  But  when  the 
Canadian  border  was  reached,  after  a  march  of  about 
twenty  miles,  the  militia  stood  upon  their  constitutional 
rights,  refused  to  leave  the  territory  of  the  United 
States,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  ignominiously 
march  them  home  again.  Thus  was  rounded  out  a 
record  of  military  incompetence  and  disorder  at  which 
even  so  young  and  ill-organized  a  nation  as  the  United 
States  in  1812  might  well  blush. 

Indeed  the  shame  of  it  made  the  Americans  do  more 
than  blush.  To  mortification  succeeded  wrath.  It 
was  a  boastful  day  and  people,  and  the  saying  became 
current,  as  new  armies  were  called  for,  that  the  sur- 
render of  Hull  had  done  more  to  help  on  the  war  than 
could  the  capture  of  ten  thousand  British  regulars.  It 
did  for  a  time  stimulate  mightily  the  war  spirit.     All 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       209 

through  the  nation  spread  the  call  for  volunteers  to 
retake  Detroit,  and  to  guard  the  Northwest  from  In- 
dians. Every  man  in  public  life,  everybody  who  hoped 
to  be  somebody,  took  up  the  cry.  A  young  man,  one 
Henry  Clay,  then  little  known  but  destined  to  great 
place  in  the  politics  of  the  young  nation,  travelled  far 
and  wide  arousing  the  patriotic  youths  to  enlist.  "  In- 
vincibles,"  "  Tigers,"  "  Irish  Greens,"  and  "  Repub- 
lican Blues  "  organized,  elected  officers,  and  demanded 
arms  and  leadership.  William  Henry  Harrison,  hero 
of  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe,  Governor  of  the  Indiana 
Territory,  and  destined  to  become  President  of  the 
United  States  and  grandfather  to  a  later  president,  was 
put  in  command  of  the  troops  which  to  the  number  of 
ten  thousand  gathered  at  Cincinnati. 

But  all  the  patriotic  zeal,  all  the  military  enthusiasm 
so  generally  manifested  and  so  skilfully  encouraged 
was  destined  to  come  to  naught  in  the  face  of  military 
famine.  The  men  were  there,  but  for  them  there 
were  no  shoes,  mitts,  blankets,  or  food.  Guns  were 
scarce  and  many  of  the  rifles  supplied  were  without 
flints.  As  clothing  and  munitions  of  war  were  slowly 
gathered  at  the  central  depots  the  lack  of  any  transport 
service  made  their  distribution  slow  and  inefficient. 
First  muddy  roads,  then  frozen  rivers,  intervened. 
The  troops  became  demoralized,  and  the  lack  of  dis- 
cipline joined  with  the  lack  of  supplies  to  create  a  gen- 
eral state  of  utter  inefficiency. 

Detroit,  which  had  been  the  objective  of  General 
Harrison's  campaign,  was  never  reached,  but  in  the 
northwestern  corner  of  Ohio,  near  the  Michigan  state 
line,  and  bordering  upon  Lake  Erie,  the  Americans  and 
the  allied  British  and  Indians  clashed  fiercely  with  re- 
sults generally  disastrous  to  the  former.  In  these  bat- 
tles, and  more  especially  in  the  massacres  which  fol- 
lowed them,  the  Indians  acted  with  a  savagery  and 


210         STORYOF   OUR  ARMY 

bloodthirstiness  which  was  perhaps  only  to  be  expected 
of  them,  but  which  brought  upon  the  British  who  em- 
ployed them  and  who  did  not  discourage  their  bar- 
barities, the  execration  of  the  Americans.  The  foe- 
men  confronted  each  other  first  at  a  point  on  the  River 
Raisin,  then  called  Frenchtown,  but  near  the  site  of  the 
present  town  of  Monroe,  Michigan.  Here  General 
Winchester,  in  command  of  a  body  of  Kentucky  troops 
and  one  regiment  of  United  States  regulars,  attacked 
and  drove  out  a  British  force  without  very  serious  loss 
on  either  side.  The  British,  however,  were  in  force 
at  Maiden,  about  18  miles  way,  and  before  General 
Harrison  could  get  reinforcements  to  Winchester  they 
fell  upon  the  latter  in  overwhelming  numbers.  The 
American  commander  was  largely  to  blame  for  the 
defeat  and  rout  that  followed,  for  despite  the  repre- 
sentations of  his  officers  General  Winchester  had  made 
no  effort  to  fortify  his  camp  and  did  not  even  throw 
out  pickets,  or  have  any  patrol  make  the  rounds.  It 
was  therefore  merely  a  commonplace  of  war  that 
General  Proctor  should  have  been  able  to  surprise  the 
American  force  and  utterly  defeat  it.  It  was  far  from 
the  ordinary  practice  in  war,  however,  that  there  should 
have  remained  but  27  Americans  wounded  to  397 
killed. 

Rather  more  than  half  of  the  British  force  was  com- 
posed of  savages,  and  if  any  attempt  had  been  made 
by  their  employers  to  correct  or  to  repress  the  bar- 
barous instinct  to  torture  and  massacre  which  charac- 
terized the  American  aborigine,  it  did  not  appear  in 
the  carnage  attending  this  battle.  For  when  after  a 
gallant  resistance  the  Americans  were  put  to  flight,  the 
Indians  massed  themselves  in  the  woods  and  behind 
the  walls  bordering  the  roads  and  shot  down  the  fugi- 
tives as  they  fled.  All  who  fell  were  scalped.  One  party 
of  twenty    commanded  by  a  lieutenant  surrendered, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       211 

but  were  hardly  disarmed  before  they  were  massacred. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  the  rout  and  the  slaughter  one 
part  of  the  American  line,  made  up  of  Kentucky  rifle- 
men who  had  won  some  slight  shelter  behind  fences, 
kept  up  the  fight  and  by  their  marksmanship  inflicted 
heavy  loss  upon  the  enemy.  Of  sixteen  men  who 
manned  one  of  the  enemy's  guns  thirteen  were  killed 
by  these  sharpshooters.  General  Proctor,  who  had 
General  Winchester  a  prisoner  at  his  headquarters,  had 
no  liking  for  this  sort  of  fighting  and  prevailed  upon 
his  captive  to  order  Colonel  Madison,  who  commanded 
the  Kentuckians,  to  surrender.  The  order,  coming  from 
one  in  captivity,  even  though  a  superior,  had  no  force, 
but  Madison,  seeing  the  day  irretrievably  lost  and  rely- 
ing upon  Proctor's  assurance  of  protection  against  the 
savages,  showed  the  white  flag.  In  this  surrender  384 
men  laid  down  their  arms.  A  British  eye-witness  de- 
scribed them  as  coatless  in  a  bitter  January,  clad  in 
cotton,  with  blankets  wrapped  about  their  loins,  armed 
with  tomahawks,  axes,  bowie-knives,  and  long  Ken- 
tucky rifles.  Wretched  as  their  ill-clad  and  half-fed 
condition  had  been  they  were  destined  to  a  harder  fate, 
for  Proctor,  ignoring  his  promise  of  protection,  moved 
away,  leaving  the  prisoners  unarmed  and  many  of  them 
wounded  without  any  guard  whatsoever.  The  Indians 
first  began  plundering  the  captives,  then  maddened  with 
whiskey,  set  about  a  wholesale  massacre  in  which 
the  wounded  were  slain  first,  then  the  other  prisoners 
as  fast  as  they  could  be  run  down.  All  were  scalped, 
and  the  ghastly  trophies  were  common  spectacles  in 
the  British  camp  where  Proctor  seems  to  have  done 
nothing  to  indicate  any  reprobation  of  the  massacre. 
Thus,  with  new  disaster,  opened  the  year  18 13. 
General  Harrison  heard  the  news  at  the  Maumee  River 
and  filled  with  dread  of  the  conquering  Proctor,  burned 
his  stores  and  fled.     At  the  same  time  Proctor,  in  equal 


212         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

dread  of  Harrison,  was  fleeing  toward  Canada  with 
all  possible  speed.  General  Grant  in  his  Memoirs 
says  that  one  of  the  first  and  hardest  lessons  for 
him  to  learn  in  war  was  that  if  he  was  afraid  of 
the  enemy,  the  enemy  was  probably  equally  afraid  of 
him,  and  a  recognition  of  this  fact  would  probably 
have  saved  many  a  commander  from  an  ignominious 
retreat.  Harrison,  however,  soon  recovered  himself 
and  advancing  again  to  the  Maumee  built  at  the  rapids 
a  strong  fort,  which  he  named  Fort  Meigs.  To  gar- 
rison it  he  had  but  500  men,  many  of  them  militia 
whose  time  was  about  to  expire.  But  by  energy  and 
skilful  pleading,  the  general  managed  to  drum  up 
about  300  more  men.  Hardly  had  these  reached 
the  fort  when  the  redoubtable  Proctor  with  about 
1,000  whites,  1,200  Indians  led  by  the  famous  Te- 
cumseh,  and  with  plenty  of  cannon,  laid  siege  to  the 
fort. 

The  operations  that  followed  should  have  been 
wholly  to  the  glory  and  triumph  of  the  American  arms. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  where  they  were  not  inconclusive, 
they  were  discreditable.  Proctor  invested  the  fort 
and  had  been  bombarding  it  for  four  days  when  Briga- 
dier-General Clay,  of  Kentucky,  with  about  1,200 
men,  came  up  to  the  relief  of  Harrison.  Hearing 
from  afar  of  the  conflict  General  Clay  sent  850  of  his 
best  men  in  advance  who  fell  upon  the  British,  drove 
them  from  their  batteries,  and  captured  the  guns  which 
alone  could  seriously  menace  Fort  Meigs.  That  was 
the  time  to  crush  Proctor  altogether.  He  had,  it  is 
true,  more  than  2,000  men,  but  of  these  1,200  were 
Indians  whose  nature  it  was  to  vanish  at  the  first  re- 
verse. Had  the  defenders  of  the  fort  quickly  joined 
with  the  newcomers  and  turned  the  captured  guns  on 
the  enemy,  Proctor  might  well  have  been  annihilated. 
But  Harrison  remained  quiescent  behind  his  stockade, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       213 

while  Proctor  rallied  his  troops  and  attacked  the  re- 
lieving force.  Over  seven  hundred  of  these  were 
killed,  wounded,  or  captured.  Here,  as  on  the  earlier 
occasion,  Proctor  sullied  his  laurels  with  the  crimson 
stain  of  massacre.  His  prisoners  were  confined  in  an 
old  fort  a  little  way  down  stream,  where  the  Indians 
were  permitted  to  murder  them  at  will.  An  eye-wit- 
ness wrote,  "  The  Indians  were  permitted  to  garnish 
the  surrounding  rampart,  and  to  amuse  themselves  by 
loading  and  firing  at  the  crowd  or  at  any  particular 
individual.  Those  who  preferred  to  inflict  a  still  more 
cruel  and  savage  death  selected  their  victims,  led  them 
to  the  gateway,  and  there,  under  the  eye  of  General 
Proctor,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  British  army, 
tomahawked  and  scalped  them."  It  was  not  to  British 
interference,  if  the  records  of  the  time  are  trustworthy, 
that  the  stoppage  of  the  bloody  work  was  due,  but  to 
an  Indian,  the  chief  Tecumseh  himself,  who  is  said  to 
have  made  his  way  into  the  midst  of  the  murderers, 
and  buried  his  own  tomahawk  in  the  brain  of  one  of 
them  crying,  "  For  shame!  It  is  a  disgrace  to  kill  a 
defenceless  prisoner."  But  the  British  did  not  further 
press  their  advantage  and  returned  to  Canada,  leaving 
the  American  flag  still  waving  over  Fort  Meigs.  The 
affair  had  been  creditable  to  neither  belligerent. 

However,  Proctor  stayed  but  briefly  in  Canada. 
General  Prevost,  his  superior  officer,  sent  him  word 
from  Lower  Canada  that  no  more  troops  or  supplies 
could  be  spared  for  him  and  that  he  must  draw  his 
rations  from  the  Americans  or  starve.  Accordingly, 
with  about  five  thousand  men,  including  a  number  of 
Indians,  he  reappeared  before  Fort  Meigs.  General 
Green  Clay  was  behind  the  stockade,  and  as  he  refused 
to  come  out  and  fight  a  superior  force  in  the  open, 
Proctor  looked  about  him  for  an  easier  victim.  Not 
far  away,  where  the  Ohio  town  of  Fremont  now  stands, 


214         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

was  a  post,  a  mere  stockade  mounting  one  gun  and  gar- 
risoned by  1 60  men.  This  looked  to  Proctor  like  a 
plum  ripe  for  the  picking,  and  by  land  and  water  he 
transported  his  troops  in  that  direction.  Harrison, 
with  eight  hundred  militia  ten  miles  away  from  Fort 
Stephenson,  thought  the  place  indefensible  and  ordered 
its  commander  to  burn  and  abandon  it.  But  that  offi- 
cer, bearing  the  stout  Irish  name  of  Croghan,  was  a 
fighter.  His  father  had  been  in  the  Continental  army, 
he  was  himself  a  regular  and  veteran  of  Tippecanoe, 
and  he  had  no  intention  of  fleeing  without  a  fight. 
"  We  are  determined  to  maintain  this  place,"  he  an- 
swered to  Harrison,  "  and  by  Heaven  we  will."  With 
which  highly  mutinous  response  he  set  about  strength- 
ening his  walls  with  bags  of  sand  and,  at  some  points, 
of  flour,  and  loading  his  only  gun  with  slugs  masked 
it  at  a  point  which  commanded  the  probable  line  of  the 
enemy's  attack. 

Proctor  came  up  with  his  5,000  men  and  sum- 
moned Croghan  to  surrender.  Being  met  with  jeers 
and  defiance  he  turned  loose  his  four  cannon  against 
the  fort  for  two  days  and  nights  and  then,  thinking  the 
garrison  unnerved  by  the  bombardment,  sent  his  troops 
forward  to  the  assault.  The  British  columns  rushed  upon 
the  fort  on  three  sides,  while  the  Indians  assailed  it  from 
the  fourth  side.  Each  of  the  storming  parties  was 
almost  as  large  as  the  entire  garrison,  and  there  was 
some  reason  for  the  boastful  confidence  with  which  the 
British  Colonel  Short  commanded  his  men  to  "  scale 
the  pickets  and  show  the  damned  Yankee  rascals  no 
quarter."  But  as  he  gave  the  command  Croghan's  one 
gun  blazed  from  its  concealed  position.  It  swept  the 
ditch,  cutting  down  nearly  every  man,  including  Colonel 
Short,  who  was  soon  waving  his  white  handkerchief 
and  begging  himself  for  the  quarter  which  he  had 
ordered  refused  to  his  enemy.     On  the  other  sides  of 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       215; 

the  fort  well-directed  musketry  was  equally  effective  in 
repulsing  the  assailants,  and  at  nightfall  General  Proc- 
tor gathered  up  his  dead  and  wounded  and  sailed  away 
for  Canada.  Instead  of  replenishing  his  stock  of  mu- 
nitions of  war  he  abandoned  a  very  considerable  quan- 
tity of  stores  in  his  precipitate  flight. 

It  is  one  of  the  curious  episodes  in  American  history 
that  while  Major  Croghan  was  for  a  time  made  a 
national  hero  because  of  the  gallantry  of  his  action,  he 
very  quickly  disappeared  from  the  public  eye,  while 
General  Harrison,  who  had  ordered  him  to  abandon 
the  post  and  who,  during  the  three  days'  action  rested 
supine  and  seemingly  terrified  with  eight  hundred  mili- 
tia only  ten  miles  away,  was  afterward  loaded  with 
honors  and  elected  President  of  the  United  States. 

After  this  battle  the  land  forces  of  the  United  States 
in  the  Northwest  remained  inactive  for  some  time. 
The  government  had  been  exerting  itself  to  regain 
control  of  Lake  Erie,  and  although  the  record  of  delay 
and  blunders  which  preceded  Perry's  famous  victory 
seems  even  now  discreditable  enough,  the  fleet  was 
finally  built,  and  Perry  was  able  to  send  from  Put-in 
Bay  the  famous  dispatch  to  General  Harrison,  "  We 
have  met  the  enemy  and  they  are  ours ;  two  ships,  two 
brigs,  one  schooner,  and  one  sloop. "  Of  the  naval 
operations  of  the  War  of  18 12,  glorious  to  the  Ameri- 
can flag  as  they  were,  I  will  not  speak  in  detail  here.* 
But  the  success  of  Perry  opened  the  way  to  the  forces 
of  the  United  States  to  regain  the  lost  territory  of 
Michigan  with  the  exception  of  the  post  of  Mackinac, 
which  the  British  held  until  the  end  of  the  war.  Gen- 
eral Harrison  late  in  September  reoccupied  Detroit, 
and   marched   into    Canada   taking   Maiden,    whence 

*  The  story  of  Perry's  victory  and  other  actions  of  the  naval  war 
of  1812  is  told  in  the  companion  volume  to  this,  "The  Story  of 
Our  Navy,"  by  Willis  J.  Abbot. 


216         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

Proctor  fled  eastward,  and  garrisoning  several  Canadian 
points.  After  a  hot  pursuit  Proctor  was  overtaken  on 
the  banks  of  the  Thames  River  at  a  point  then  known 
as  Moravian  Town.  The  honor  of  leading  the  attack 
and  sustaining  the  chief  burden  of  the  battle  rested  with 
Colonel  Richard  M.  Johnson,  and  his  Kentucky  Regi- 
ment, who  while  Harrison  hesitated,  fell  upon  the 
enemy  so  fiercely  that  he  carried  all  before  him  and 
swept  away  British  and  Indian  alike  in  hopeless  rout. 

Among  the  slain  was  the  famous  Indian  chief, 
Tecumseh,  and  controversy  raged  long  and  loud  over 
whose  was  the  hand  that  dealt  him  the  fatal  blow. 
The  Kentuckians  always  claimed  the  distinction  for 
Colonel  Johnson,  and  years  after  when  he  was  a  candi- 
date for  vice-president,  this  deed  was  seriously  cited 
as  one  of  his  "  qualifications."  Tecumseh's  red  men 
had  been  savage  fighters  and  cruel  conquerors,  but  he 
had  more  than  once  set  himself  sternly  against  the  in- 
fliction of  barbarities  on  helpless  prisoners;  so  it  is  with 
no  sense  of  pride  that  an  American  will  read  that  the 
Kentuckians  finding  his  dead  body  cried  aloud  in  rage, 
and  cutting  from  the  thighs  long  strips  of  skin,  declared 
they  would  make  razor  strops  of  them,  and  keep  them 
in  memory  of  the  Raisin  River  massacre.  For  that 
savage  slaughter  it  would  have  been  more  to  the  pur- 
pose to  blame  the  British  General  Proctor  who,  after 
his  defeat  at  the  Thames  fled  in  his  carriage,  having 
the  effrontery  to  send  back  a  message  to  General  Har- 
rison, bespeaking  kindly  treatment  for  the  wounded 
and  prisoners  he  had  left  behind. 

To  Perry's  victory  alone  is  due  the  fact  that  the  year 
1 8 13  closed  with  the  United  States  forces  again  in 
possession  of  all  the  posts  at  the  western  end  of  Lake 
Erie  that  had  been  lost  to  them  earlier  in  the  year. 
At  the  eastern  end  of  that  lake  and  on  Lake  Ontario 
the  plans  of  the  Department  of  War  had  been  defeated 


©  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  V. 

ARBITRATION    IN   THE   TRENCHES    NEAR    MANILA 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       217 

— largely  through  the  jealousy  of  two  rival  generals, 
Hampton  and  Wilkinson,  whose  bickerings  would  have 
been  ridiculous  if  they  had  not  been  fatal  to  military 
efficiency. 

The  plan  of  campaign  proposed  by  the  War  Depart- 
ment at  the  beginning  of  the  year  was  the  capture  of 
Kingston  and  Fort  Prescott,  and  an  advance  upon 
Montreal.  So  far  from  being  carried  out  the  plan  was 
never  seriously  tested.  On  the  27th  of  April,  General 
Dearborn  with  about  1,700  men  crossed  Lake 
Ontario  and  captured  York,  now  Toronto.  The 
exploit  was  not  a  difficult  one,  for  the  garrison  num- 
bered but  650,  and  despite  a  good  fight  were  forced 
to  yield  to  overpowering  numbers.  More  men  of 
both  sides  were  slain  by  the  explosion,  probably 
accidental,  of  the  British  magazine  than  in  actual  battle. 
52  Americans  and  about  40  English  soldiers  were 
thus  killed,  among  the  Americans  being  the  veteran 
General  Zebulon  M.  Pike,  who  was  in  command  of 
the  expedition.  Pike  was  at  some  distance  from  the 
scene  of  the  explosion,  seated  in  the  woods  and  ques- 
tioning a  prisoner  when  a  hail  of  timber,  stones,  and 
earth  fell  about  him,  beating  him  down  and  inflicting 
mortal  injuries.  The  British  surrendering  soon  after, 
their  ensign  was  brought  to  the  dying  general  who, 
asking  that  it  be  folded  and  placed  beneath  his  head, 
soon  afterward  expired. 

Out  of  this  battle  sprang  a  heated  controversy  which 
raged  until  after  the  war  itself  was  ended.  It  was 
charged  by  the  Americans  that  the  British  General 
Sheaffe  exploded  the  magazine  after  the  action  had 
ceased  and  negotiations  for  the  surrender  were  in  prog- 
ress, and  that  therefore  the  sacrifice  of  life  was  both 
wanton  and  treacherous.  Sheaffe  denied  the  charge, 
though  military  authorities  generally  hold  that  he 
would  have  been  justified  in  exploding  the  magazine 


218         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

since  the  surrender  had  not  been  consummated.  In 
retort,  the  British  accused  the  Americans  of  violating 
the  code  of  civilized  warfare  by  burning  the  govern- 
ment buildings  in  the  town.  Those  buildings  were 
undoubtedly  burned,  but  the  American  commander  in- 
sisted that  the  torch  was  applied  by  irresponsible  indi- 
viduals. At  any  rate  they  were  burned,  and  tradition 
has  it  that  it  was  because  the  soldiers  were  enraged  by 
the  discovery  of  a  human  scalp — thought  to  be  that  of 
an  American — which  had  probably  been  taken  by  some 
Indian  and  sold  to  the  British  and  was  then  hanging 
in  the  assembly  chamber.  The  scalp  and  the  speaker's 
mace  were  sent  to  Washington  where  the  British  found 
them,  later  in  the  war,  when  they,  in  turn,  burned  our 
government  buildings. 

JThe  raid  on  York,  successful  as  it  was,  did  not  ad- 
vance in  any  degree  the  general  strategic  plan  of  wrest- 
ing control  of  the  Lake  Ontario  and  St.  Lawrence 
route  from  the  British.  The  next  exploit  of  the 
Americans  was  more  in  accordance  with  that  plan. 
About  two  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara 
River  on  the  Canadian  side  was  the  British  post,  Fort 
George.  A  considerable  expedition  was  fitted  out  to 
attack  this  post  by  land  and  by  water,  among  the  sub- 
ordinate commanders  being  Winfield  Scott,  then  a 
colonel  of  regulars  and  Oliver  Hazard  Perry,  who  had 
yet  to  spring  into  fame  by  his  victory  at  Put-in  Bay. 
On  the  27th  of  May  the  attack  began  with  a  heavy 
bombardment  of  the  British  works  in  which  Fort 
Niagara,  field  batteries  along  the  American  bank  of 
the  river,  and  five  vessels  took  part.  Under  cover  of 
this  fire,  which  well-nigh  silenced  the  guns  of  the  fort, 
the  American  landing  parties  landed  on  the  shore  of 
the  lake,  thus  taking  in  the  rear  the  British  works  which 
fronted  on  the  river.  They  were  gallantly  received 
by  some  eight  hundred  or  more  British  soldiers  who, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       219 

posted  at  the  top  of  a  high  bank,  thrice  beat  back  the 
American  assailants  led  by  Colonel  Scott  In  the  end 
the  pertinacity  of  the  assailants  prevailed,  and  the 
British  fled  toward  the  village  of  Newark  while  Scott 
pressed  on  to  the  fort,  which  he  quickly  entered,  pulling 
down  with  his  own  hands  the  British  flag.  The  fugi- 
tives had  planned  to  repeat  the  tactics  of  York,  and  one 
magazine  blew  up  just  as  the  invaders  entered  the  fort, 
while  fuses  laid  to  two  others  sputtered  and  hissed 
vengefully  until  Scott  ground  out  the  sparks  under  his 
heel.  The  day  ended  in  complete  rout  for  the  British — 
it  would,  indeed,  have  witnessed  the  capture  of  the 
whole  force  of  the  enemy  had  not  General  Boyd,  com- 
manding the  American  army,  countermanded  for  some 
unknown  reason  Scott's  orders  for  the  pursuit  of  the 
fleeing  foe.  In  this  action  the  British  lost  271,  killed 
or  wounded,  and  over  600  prisoners.  The  American 
loss  did  not  exceed  153  men. 

Spluttering  hostilities  continued  all  along  the  Ni- 
agara frontier.  In  June,  one  Colonel  Boerstler  with 
540  regulars,  was  surrounded  by  a  force  of  hostile 
Indians,  half  his  number,  and  surrendered  in  a  panic. 
The  way  to  retreat  was  clear — for  that  matter,  the 
way  to  fight  was  clearer — save  for  a  British  lieutenant 
with  14  men,  but  Boerstler's  fright  so  magnified 
this  pigmy  force  that  he  surrendered  with  scarce  the 
firing  of  a  shot.  Not  long  afterward  the  British, 
under  command  of  General  Prevost,  made  two  attacks 
on  Sackett's  Harbor,  but  were  beaten  off  in  both  in- 
stances. In  the  second  attack,  however,  their  success 
seemed  so  certain  that  the  American  officer  in  charge  of 
the  stores  that  had  been  gathered  in  this  chief  military 
post  of  the  Great  Lakes,  set  the  torch  to  them  and  to  a 
new  vessel  on  the  stocks  as  well.  The  ship  was  saved 
when  the  enemy  retreated,  but  the  stores  were  a  total 
loss.     In  a  later  battle,  fought  at  night  at  Burlington 


220         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

Bay,  the  head  of  Lake  Ontario,  between  the  forces  of 
the  British,  General  Vincent,  and  the  two  Americans, 
Chandler  and  Winder,  the  two  latter  were  captured 
by  the  enemy,  and  the  British  commander  lost  his  way 
in  the  woods  and  wandered  out  of  the  field  of  action 
altogether.  Though  the  loss  was  heavier  oa  the  Brit- 
ish side,  the  Americans  were  diverted  from  their 
purpose  and  beaten  back  so  that  the  honor  of  victory, 
such  as  that  might  be,  must  be  conceded  to  the  British. 

In  recounting  these  sieges,  assaults,  forays,  and  bat- 
tles, it  is  forced  upon  the  attention  that  not  one  of 
them,  not  all  the  lives  lost  and  blood  shed  had  the 
slightest  effect  upon  the  progress  of  the  war.  The 
Americans  harassed  the  British  and  the  latter  retali- 
ated in  kind  but  the  actual  outcome  of  the  quarrel  was 
affected  no  more  than  it  would  have  been  by  two  mobs 
rioting  along  the  border.  So  inconclusive  was  it  all 
that  the  long-suffering  War  Department  removed 
General  Dearborn  from  command,  replacing  him  by 
Generals  Wilkinson  and  Hampton.  Of  these  the  for- 
mer was  technically  the  superior,  but  a  long-standing 
feud  between  the  two  men  made  them  refuse  to  cooper- 
ate in  any  way.  The  result  was  quite  natural.  Two 
disjointed  and  wholly  futile  expeditions  were  led 
against  the  enemy  by  the  quarrelling  generals,  both 
were  beaten  back  and  the  project  of  wresting  control 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  from  the  British  was  ended  for 
that  year  at  least.  Indeed  it' was  abandoned  for  the 
war,  and  forever. 

The  year  1813,  the  second  year  of  the  war,  thus 
ended  with  no  material  advantage  to  either  combatant. 
Along  the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake,  the  British  Ad- 
miral Cockburn  had  conducted  a  series  of  raids  upon 
peaceful  towns  and  villages  that  had  brought  much 
suffering  and  distress  upon  inoffensive  people,  but  was 
hardly  to   be   dignified   by   the   name   of  war.     The 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       221 

Americans  had  no  forces  on  that  ground  of  sufficient 
strength  to  offer  serious  resistance  to  the  enemy. 
Havre  de  Grace,  Norfolk,  and  Hampton  were  in  turn 
raided,  and  the  circumstances  attending  the  sack  of  the 
last  village  were  so  barbarous  as  to  put  a  permanent 
stain  on  the  British  record.  It  had  been  supposed 
that  the  days  of  the  violation  of  women  and  the 
slaughter  of  little  children  by  the  troops  of  a  civilized 
nation  had  long  since  passed  away,  but  at  Hampton 
the  British  were  guilty  of  both. 

Farther  south  the  American  arms  met  with  a  greater 
measure  of  success.  That  was  perhaps  because  the 
country  was  defended  by  pioneers  used  to  the  rifle, 
and  now  contending  against  their  old  foe,  the  Indians. 
In  the  campaigns  in  Alabama,  Georgia,  and  Florida, 
the  enemy  were  almost  wholly  Indians,  armed  and  set 
on  the  warpath  by  the  British  it  was  true,  but  fighting 
under  their  own  chiefs  and  in  their  own  fashion.  It  is 
a  matter,  however,  of  ghastly  record  that  a  reward  of 
five  dollars  was  offered  for  every  scalp,  whether  of 
man,  woman,  or  child,  which  these  savages  would 
bring  to  the  British  agency.  The  first  considerable 
exploit  of  the  savages  was  the  capture  of  Fort  Mims, 
a  stockade  about  40  miles  north  of  Mobile.  Here 
had  gathered  a  very  considerable  number  of  settlers 
with  their  families,  alarmed  by  the  signs  of  Indian 
activity  in  the  neighborhood.  A  force  of  175  militia 
had  been  sent  by  the  government  to  defend  the  fort 
which,  between  refugees  and  soldiers,  was  sadly  over- 
crowded. Rank  carelessness  led  to  a  frightful  dis- 
aster. Late  in  August  2  negro  slaves  came  running 
into  the  fort,  and  reported  that  the  woods  nearby  were 
full  of  Indians.  There  were  in  fact  more  than  one 
thousand  Creeks  led  by  the  famous  Chief  Weathers- 
ford  in  the  vicinity,  but  as  the  regular  scouts  had  failed 
to   discover  them,   the  negroes  were  not   only  disbe- 


222         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

lieved  but  severely  flogged  for  lying.  After  adminis- 
tering this  discipline,  the  defenders  of  the  fort  went 
to  dinner,  leaving  the  gates  to  the  outer  stockade  wide 
open.  The  opportunity  for  which  the  savages  had 
been  waiting  arrived,  and  shouting  their  warwhoop, 
they  charged  through  the  gates  and  began  the 
slaughter  of  the  unprepared  garrison.  A  few  of  the 
latter  shut  themselves  in  the  citadel  and  fought  bravely 
and  well  until  the  Indians  brought  fire  to  their  aid 
and  destroyed  this  last  place  of  refuge.  The  mas- 
sacre that  followed  was  fiendish  in  all  its  details.  Not 
a  white  person,  man  or  woman,  was  left  alive  though 
many  negroes  were  kept  for  slaves.  In  all  more  than 
four  hundred  were  slain,  with  the  studied  and  elabo- 
rate cruelty  with  which  the  American  Indian  put  an 
end  to  hapless  enemies  in  his  power. 

The  massacre  at  Fort  Mims  roused  a  part  of  the 
American  population  to  whom  Indian  fighting  had 
become  a  second  nature.  It  brought,  too,  into  the  na- 
tional arena  for  the  first  time  one  of  the  most  rugged 
figures  in  all  American  history.  The  state  of  Tennes- 
see, having  called  for  3,500  men  to  put  down  the 
Indians,  gave  the  command  of  this  force  to  Andrew 
Jackson,  a  fighter  if  ever  there  was  one,  as  ready  with 
the  pistol  in  private  affrays  as  he  was  dashing  in  the 
leadership  of  armed  forces.  Swiftly  pushing  into  the 
territory  of  the  hostile  Creeks,  he  won  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  victories.  At  Tallusahatchee  (now  Jackson- 
ville, Florida),  a  fort  was  stormed  and  200  war- 
riors slain.  At  Fort  Talladega,  300  braves  fell, 
and  Jackson,  who  was  nothing  if  not  thorough 
in  his  methods,  raged  mightily  because  2  com- 
panies of  militia  showed  the  white  feather  and 
permitted  some  of  the  enemy  to  escape.  On  the 
Tallapoosa  River,  near  where  Montgomery  now 
stands,    villages    were    burned    and   more    than    200 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       223 

warriors  slain.  Nearby  was  a  great  camp  on  what 
the  Indian  prophets  had  assured  their  people  was  holy 
ground,  on  which  no  white  man  could  set  foot  and 
live.  But  General  Claiborne  attacked  this  sanctuary 
and  slew  the  redskins  mercilessly.  So  complete  had 
been  the  surprise  that  the  assailants  found  the  Indians 
preparing  for  one  of  their  religious  ceremonies,  with 
several  captives  of  both  sexes  bound  to  stakes  and  the 
wood  piled  ready  for  the  torch.  It  may  be  readily 
understood  that  this  discovery  did  not  make  the  Ameri- 
cans fight  the  less  savagely. 

Jackson's  war  upon  the  Creeks  did  not  close  with 
the  year  18 13,  but  was  continued  during  the  early 
months  of  the  following  year.  It  culminated  with 
the  battle  of  Horseshoe  Bend  in  the  Tallapoosa,  where 
in  a  battle  in  which  neither  party  asked  nor  granted 
quarter,  the  Americans  slew  557  Indians.  This  finally 
destroyed  the  power  of  the  Creeks.  All  of  this  war- 
fare, savage  and  bloody  as  it  was,  is  related  to  the 
war  with  England  only  because  the  British  armed  the 
Indians  and  instigated  them  to  take  the  warpath. 
General  Jackson  explained  the  situation  clearly  when, 
in  a  personal  letter,  he  wrote:  "  While  we  fight  the 
savage  who  makes  war  only  because  he  delights  in 
blood,  and  who  has  gotten  his  booty  when  he  has 
scalped  his  victim,  we  are,  through  him,  contending 
against  an  enemy  of  more  inveterate  character  and 
deeper  design.  So  far  as  my  exertions  can  contribute, 
the  purposes  both  of  the  savage  and  his  instigator, 
shall  be  defeated." 

The  last  year  of  the  war  opened  in  a  way  not  at 
all  encouraging  to  the  American  cause.  Though  the 
navy  on  ocean  and  lakes  had  won  such  a  series  of  vic- 
tories as  to  make  the  whole  world  recognize  the  arrival 
of  a  serious  contestant  to  Great  Britain  on  the  high 
seas,  the  army,  or  what  passed  for  one,  had  no  laurels 


224         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

to  display.  Andrew  Jackson  was  the  only  fighting 
man  of  the  first  grade  that  the  war  had  thus  far  de- 
veloped and  his  victories  had  been  won  not  over  British 
regulars  but  over  naked  savages.  True,  the  British 
had  won  none  of  our  territory,  their  operations  along 
the  Atlantic  coast  having  been  confined  to  mere  raids 
without  any  effort  to  hold  the  places  captured.  But 
the  most  serious  fact  confronting  the  Americans,  as 
1 8 14  took  its  place  in  the  calendar,  was  the  end  of 
the  long  Napoleonic  wars  in  Europe  and  the  conse- 
quent liberation  of  the  whole  British  army  and  navy 
for  the  campaign  against  the  United  States.  It  is 
true  that  peace  suggestions  were  in  the  air.  Russia 
had  offered  to  act  as  mediator.  But  the  tone  of  Brit- 
ish public  opinion  was  all  against  peace,  and  for 
making  the  audacious  infant  nation  drain  the  very 
dregs  of  humiliation  and  defeat. 

Hostilities  reopened  on  the  line  of  the  Niagara. 
By  this  time  the  American  regulars  were  becoming 
seasoned  to  battle  and  though  not  successful  at  every 
point,  did,  however,  give  an  excellent  account  of  them- 
selves at  Chippewa  and  Lundy's  Lane.  In  the  former 
battle,  American  regulars  were  pitted  against  British 
regulars  and  won — much  to  the  dismay  of  the  Lon- 
don journalists  who  commented  on  the  action.  The 
forces  were  very  nearly  equal  and  an  official  historian 
of  the  army  declares  that  never  after  this  battle  was 
a  force  of  United  States  regulars  beaten  by  foreign 
troops.  This  historian  ignores  the  battle  of  the  Lit- 
tle Big  Horn  in  which  Custer's  troops  were  annihilated, 
but  doubtless  does  not  consider  the  Indians  who  in- 
flicted that  crushing  defeat  as  "  troops." 

To  the  American  pride,  however,  the  great  and 
crushing  disaster  of  the  final  year  of  the  war  came  in 
the  capture  of  Washington  by  General  Robert  Ross 
in  August,   1 8 14.     Among  the  capitals  of  the  world, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       225 

Washington  is  one  of  the  most  exposed  to  the  attack 
of  a  foreign  foe.  Once  past  the  capes  at  the  entrance 
to  Chesapeake  Bay,  an  invading  fleet  has  a  ready 
waterway  to  the  capital,  direct  by  the  Potomac,  or  to 
its  immediate  neighborhood  by  the  Bay.  Today,  of 
course,  great  forts  at  the  capes  make  entrance  practi- 
cally impossible,  but  in  18 14  no  such  guardians  had 
been  established.  Cockburn's  raids  upon  the  towns  of 
the  lower  Chesapeake — Norfolk  and  Hampton — 
should  have  fairly  warned  Congress  of  the  danger 
that  menaced  the  capital,  but  there  was  nothing  done 
to  avert  it.  In  July,  18 14,  when  had  they  but  known 
it  the  war  was  nearly  at  an  end,  the  urgency  of  the 
Governor  of  Maryland  led  Congress  to  call  General 
Winder  to  the  defence  of  the  struggling  new  city. 
That  officer's  record  had  hardly  been  glorious,  being 
confined  to  his  defeat  and  capture  by  the  enemy  at 
Stony  Creek.  In  that  ill-fated  action  he  was  sur- 
prised, but  the  episode  seemed  to  have  taught  him 
little,  as  he  approached  the  defence  of  Washington 
with  a  languid  indifference  to  anything  that  savored 
of  energy,  or  military  preparation. 

August  18,  word  came  to  Washington  that  the  Brit- 
ish had  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Patuxent  about 
forty  miles  away.  With  about  two  thousand  men 
General  Winder  marched  out  to  meet  them,  but  the 
meeting  was  seemingly  not  to  his  liking,  for  from  a  dis- 
tance he  saw  General  Ross  marching  by  on  the  road 
to  Washington  and  made  no  effort  to  stop  his  advance. 
It  is  true  that  the  Americans  were  outnumbered  more 
than  two  to  one,  but  the  moment  was  one  for  taking  des- 
perate chances,  and  at  least  the  enemy  might  have  been 
harassed  by  attacks  upon  his  flank  instead  of  being 
permitted  to  march  unopposed  upon  the  defenceless 
national  capital. 

For  that  capital  was  utterly  defenceless.     Though 


226         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

intrusted  with  its  defense,  General  Winder  had  erected 
not  one  single  earthwork,  had  established  not  one  for- 
tified camp.  At  Bladensburg,  not  far  from  the  city, 
the  townspeople,  more  energetic  than  the  commander 
intrusted  with  the  defence,  had  thrown  up  a  hasty 
line  of  defence,  and  hither  flocked  Winder's  men,  the 
militia  from  districts  round  about,  many  citizens  with 
hastily  seized  arms  and  Captain  Barney  with  about 
four  hundred  sailors  from  a  flotilla  of  gunboats  which 
had  been  destroyed  upon  the  approach  of  the  British. 
The  valor  of  these  sailors  offered  the  only  redeeming 
feature  of  the  American  part  in  the  Bladensburg  battle. 
A  curious  and  almost  pathetic  travesty  upon  a  fight 
for  the  possession  of  a  nation's  capital  was  that.  Mad- 
ison, the  President,  was  there  with  Armstrong,  secre- 
tary of  war,  Jones,  secretary  of  the  navy,  and  Rush, 
the  attorney-general.  Before  the  eyes  of  these  civil 
dignitaries  deployed,  in  review,  the  troops — 3,200  in 
all,  of  whom  1,000  were  regulars.  We  know  now 
that  Ross  looked  on  this  array  with  some  apprehension 
and  was  seriously  considering  retreat  to  his  boats,  when 
some  act  of  Winder's  convinced  him  that  the  Ameri- 
cans were  more  frightened  than  he.  Winder,  avoid- 
ing a  battle,  retreated  to  the  navy  yard  at  Washington, 
but  the  next  day,  hearing  the  British  were  marching 
for  Bladensburg,  rushed  his  troops,  his  volunteers, 
sailors,  cabinet  officers,  the  President,  and  a  generally 
unclassified  rabble  of  sightseers  to  that  point.  The  scene 
must  have  been  not  unlike  that  of  the  day  in  1861, 
when  all  official  Washington  trooped  gaily  over  the 
Long  Bridge  to  witness  the  battle  of  Bull  Run — nor 
was  the  return  of  the  sightseers  in  the  two  instances 
dissimilar. 

To  call  the  brief  tussle  that  occurred  a  battle  would 
be  to  dignify  with  the  terms  of  real  warfare  a  skirmish 
that  was  ignominious  for  the  defeated  and  not  par- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       227 

ticularly  glorious  for  the  victors.  With  seven  thou- 
sand men  General  Winder  possessed  the  superiority 
in  numbers  though  most  of  those  under  his  command 
were  militiamen.  '  He  had  the  advantage,  too,  of  posi- 
tion, for  to  reach  his  lines  the  British  had  to  pass  a 
narrow  bridge,  crossing  a  shallow  stream,  and  advance 
up  a  very  considerable  slope  at  the  crest  of  which  the 
Americans  were  posted,  well  covered  by  timber  and 
undergrowth.  Yet  at  the  second  charge,  the  defen- 
ders of  their  nation's  capital  fled.  The  artillerymen 
fired  but  once  when  they  were  seized  with  panic.  A 
regiment  of  Maryland  riflemen,  which  led  in  the  flight, 
was  commanded  by  James  Pinckney,  who  had  but 
lately  been  United  States  Minister  at  the  court  of  that 
very  British  monarch  from  whose  troops  he  was  now 
running  away.  It  was  before  the  days  of  the  Amer- 
ican newspaper  cartoon,  else  the  caricatures  of  Presi- 
dent Madison  and  members  of  his  cabinet  swept 
along  with  the  panic-stricken  mob  would  have  added 
something  to  the  vivacity  of  history.  Execrations 
were  heaped  upon  Madison  as  he  was  borne  along, 
for  he  was  looked  upon  as  the  author  of  the  war,  and 
that  conflict,  unpopular  even  in  the  infrequent  mo- 
ments of  American  success,  was  held  no  less  than 
execrable  in  the  hours  of  disaster. 

Gaily  as  though  it  were  a  summer  day's  picnic,  the 
British  pursued  the  fleeing  rabble.  They  expected  no 
resistance,  and  for  a  moment  hung  back  and  wavered 
when  a  sharp  artillery  fire  fell  upon  them  from  a  hill 
about  a  mile  from  the  original  battle  ground.  Here 
Captain  Joshua  Barney  had  posted  himself  with  five 
naval  guns,  and  a  force  of  about  four  hundred  sailors, 
supported  on  the  flanks  by  some  regulars  and  a  regi- 
ment from  Annapolis.  Forgotten  by  his  superiors, 
standing  where  he  did  only  of  his  own  initiative,  Bar- 
ney put  up  the  only  semblance  of  a  defence  that  Wash- 


228         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

ington  saw  that  day.  But  when  the  British,  repulsed 
in  an  attack  upon  his  front,  endeavored  to  turn  his 
flanks,  the  militia  and  the  regulars  in  prompt  succession 
ran  away.  Captain  Barney  was  thrice  wounded,  and 
though  lying  beside  one  of  his  disabled  guns,  he  strove 
to  hold  his  men  up  to  the  defence,  they  could  sustain 
the  odds  no  longer  and  joined  in  the  general  retreat. 

Meantime  the  town  toward  which  the  mob  of  fugi- 
tives was  rushing,  was  itself  in  a  panic.  The  rattle 
of  musketry,  and  the  deeper  boom  of  the  cannon  sound- 
ing ever  nearer  told  the  townsfolk  that  the  advance 
of  the  British  had  not  been  stayed.  The  civilians  were 
in  a  panic.  Had  not  the  British  at  Norfolk  and 
Hampton  burned,  robbed,  ravished,  and  violated? 
Had  not  a  dozen  hamlets  bordering  the  Chesapeake 
stories  to  tell  of  atrocities  resembling  those  of  the  red 
men,  but  perpetrated  in  fact  by  the  white  soldiers  of 
King  George?  Why  should  Washington  expect  any 
better  handling?  All  the  women,  at  least,  must  be 
sent  away  for  fear  of  the  fate  most  fearful  to  their 
sex.  Valuables  must  be  buried,  dropped  into  wells, 
concealed  in  any  way.  The  banks  sent  off  their  specie. 
Government  clerks  packed  state  papers  and  docu- 
ments into  wagons  and  sent  them  over  into  Virginia. 
Mrs.  Madison,  the  "  Dolly "  Madison  of  American 
social  chronicles,  filled  three  carriages  with  cabinet 
papers,  and  by  a  sudden  happy  thought  cut  the  Stuart 
portrait  of  Washington  from  its  frame  on  the  White 
House  walls  and  sent  it  to  a  place  of  concealment. 
Then  she  met  her  husband  coming  in  haggard  from 
the  Bladensburg  field,  and  with  him  she  looked  'for 
safety  a  few  miles  from  the  capital.  It  is  a  matter 
of  unpleasant  record  that  American  boors  showed  to 
the  President  and  his  wife  almost  as  much  indignity 
as  the  British  could  have;  for  coming  in  the  dark  and 
storming  night  to  a  small  tavern,  they  found  it  crowded 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       229 

with  refugees  who  cursed  Madison  as  the  author  of 
all  their  woes  and  barred  the  doors.  Later  they  re- 
lented sufficiently  to  admit  Mrs.  Madison,  but  the 
President  was  compelled  to  take  shelter  in  a  hovel 
in  the  woods  while  the  British  harried  the  country-side 
in  search  of  him. 

The  treatment  of  Washington  by  the  British  little 
belied  the  reputation  Cockburn  had  earned  along  the 
Chesapeake.  Entering  the  town  from  the  southeast, 
following  about  the  line  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  the 
invaders  came  first  upon  the  Capitol,  then  bearing  little 
resemblance  to  the  stately  structure  of  today.  A  pic- 
turesque tradition  describes  Cockburn  as  having  seated 
himself  in  the  Speaker's  chair,  organized  a  body  of  his 
hilarious  followers  into  some  semblance  of  a  House, 
and  put  the  question,  "  Shall  this  cradle  of  Yankee 
democracy  be  burned?  "  The  tradition  is  of  but  doubt- 
ful authenticity,  but  the  Capitol  was  burned  to  its 
four  walls  with  all  the  documents  it  contained. 
Sweeping  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  the  enemy 
gained  the  White  House,  which  was  also  speedily  in 
flames.  Except  sentimentally  it  was  no  wanton  nor 
very  expensive  sacrifice.  The  Executive  mansion  of  that 
day  was  a  commonplace  edifice,  without  the  porches, 
the  wings,  the  lawns,  and  parterres,  and  the  stately 
old  trees  that  now  give  it  dignity.  Only  a  few  of  its 
rooms  were  furnished,  and  the  East  Room,  now  its 
social  centre,  was  commonly  used  for  a  laundry.  But 
the  British  soldiers  found  great  sport  in  burning  the 
"  palace  of  the  Yankee  King,"  even  though  they  did 
not  find,  as  many  accounts  have  untruthfully  declared, 
an  interrupted  state  dinner  all  prepared,  joints  in  the 
oven,  wine  cooling,  plates  heating  and  all  ready  for 
the  guests  who  had  fled.  The  story  has  lasted  long 
in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  for  twenty-four  hours  be- 
fore the  British  raided  the  White  House,  its  staff,  in 


230         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

common  with  all  Washington,  was  in  a  state  of  panic, 
thinking  only  of  how  to  escape  from  the  impending 
peril. 

The  destruction  of  the  public  buildings  at  Washing- 
ton has  been  the  cause  of  much  acrimonious  writing 
by  Americans.  The  British  General  Ross  excused  it 
by  pointing  to  the  action  of  the  American  troops  who 
but  a  few  weeks  earlier  had  burned  the  public  build- 
ings at  York,  Canada.  Perhaps  it  was  a  rather 
rigorous  application  of  the  sternest  and  harshest 
powers  of  the  conqueror,  but  one  can  hardly  but  feel 
that  too  much  fuss  has  been  raised  over  it  in  American 
historical  writing.  It  is  quite  probable  that  the  earli- 
est and  noisiest  outcry  over  the  barbarities  of  the 
invaders  came  from  those  to  whose  neglect  the  dis- 
aster was  due.  General  Ross  and  Admiral  Cockburn 
do  not,  perhaps,  shine  as  enlightened  conquerors,  it 
is  true,  but  in  our  horror  at  their  lack  of  reverence  for 
national  shrines  that  were  less  than  fifteen  years  old, 
we  need  not  forget  the  fatuity  of  General  Winder, 
charged  with  the  defence  of  the  capital,  who  never 
built  a  fort,  or  laid  out  an  intrenched  camp.  Cock- 
burn  it  would  appear,  was  a  lively  spirit  as  well  as  a 
good  fighter.  "  Smash  up  the  C's,  boys!  "  he  cried, 
presiding  over  the  wreck  of  the  office  of  the  Intelli- 
gencer newspaper,  whose  editor  had  denounced  him 
with  patriotic  vigor.  "  Be  sure  the  C's  are  all  de- 
stroyed, so  the  rascals  cannot  any  longer  abuse  my 
name!  "  Are  there  no  men  of  public  note  today  who 
would  like  a  similar  chance  at  the  composing  rooms  of 
some  modern  American  newspapers? 

Having  thus  administered  to  the  Americans  what 
they  doubtless  thought  a  well-merited  and  severe 
chastisement  for  presuming  to  make  war  upon  Great 
Britain,  the  British  departed,  leaving  Washington 
humbled  and  wrathful.     But,  had  they  only  known  it, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       231 

this  easily  won  victory  was  destined  to  be  the  last 
triumph  for  their  arms  in  the  War  of  18 12.  They 
planned  to  capture  Baltimore,  after  crushing  Washing- 
ton, and  turned  their  steps  thither,  while  the  fleet  ac- 
companied them  up  Chesapeake  Bay.  There  were 
more  than  13,000  American  soldiers  in  Baltimore  but 
blundering  generalship  strove  to  halt  the  British  force 
of  5,000  with  only  3,200  raw  militia.  They  fought 
sturdily,  and  in  the  action  the  British  General  Ross 
was  killed,  but  the  field  was  won  by  the  enemy.  It 
was,  however,  but  a  barren  victory.  When  the  vic- 
tors strove  to  advance  the  next  day,  they  found  roads 
so  vile  and  so  obstructed,  and  opposing  forts  and  in- 
trenchments  so  formidable,  that  they  determined  to 
wait  and  let  the  fleet  silence  the  forts.  But  this,  in 
an  all-day  bombardment,  the  fleet  failed  to  do,  and 
finding  the  water  too  shallow  to  permit  the  advance 
of  his  heavier  ships,  the  admiral  declared  he  could 
do  no  more.  Straightway  then  the  army  abandoned 
its  efforts,  the  soldiers  were  loaded  upon  the  ships, 
and  shortly  thereafter  sailed  out  through  the  capes  of 
the  Chesapeake.  At  their  departure  the  people  o'f 
that  sorely  harassed  neighborhood  rejoiced  mightily, 
while  New  York  and  Philadelphia  worried  lest  the 
British  forces  should  come  their  way.  But  the  fleet 
sailed  straight  for  Halifax,  while  the  troops  a  little 
later  went  to  Jamaica.  They  were  to  land  once  again 
on  American  soil,  and  then  to  go  down  to  defeat  in 
the  most  sanguinary  battle  of  the  Republic's  earlier 
days. 

The  Gulf  coast  of  the  United  States,  at  that  time, 
seemed  to  offer  every  encouragement  to  an  invader. 
Its  population  was  of  mixed  nationalities.  French  in 
Louisiana,  Spanish  in  Florida,  with  outlawed  negro 
slaves  and  warlike  Indians  everywhere.  There  were 
pirates  at  Barataria,  smugglers  and  freebooters  in  the 


232'         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

lagoons  and  amidst  the  keys  of  the  Florida  peninsula. 
The  English  government  planned  to  send  an  expedition 
to  capture  New  Orleans,   and  rouse  these  turbulent 
elements  to  revolt  against  the  growing  power  of  the 
United  States  on  the  Gulf  coast,  even  in  the  territory 
that   nominally   belonged   to    Spain.     When    General 
Ross  was  slain  before  Baltimore,  his  commission  for 
this  service  was  on  its  way  to  him.     After  his  death, 
however,  command  of  the  expedition  was  given  to  Sir 
Edward   Pakenham,   brother-in-law   of  the   Duke   of 
Wellington   and  a  veteran  of  the  Napoleonic  wars. 
In  November,   1814,  this  officer  had  within  striking 
distance   of  New  Orleans  a   combined  military  and 
naval  expedition  such  as  England  had  seldom  sent  out 
against  any  foe.     Fifty  ships  of  the  English  navy  were 
commanded  and  manned  by  men  who  had  been  with 
Nelson  at  the  Battle  of  the  Nile,  and  bore  on  their 
shining  decks  soldiers  who  had  followed  Wellington 
in  the  Peninsula.     It  was  a  great  armada  for  conquest, 
and  it  bore  as  well  the  civil  officers  who  were  designed 
to  govern  the  country  when  it  was  subjugated.     For 
this  was  to  be  no  mere  raid,  no  expedition  to  harass 
the  enemy.    It  was  England  in  her  old  role  of  land 
robber,  and  it  was  intended  to  permanently  hold  New 
Orleans  and  shut  the  United  States  off  from  the  Gulf 
and  free  navigation  of  the  Mississippi. 

While  this  expedition  was  in  process  of  organiza- 
tion, the  whole  coast  which  it  was  designed  to  conquer 
was  ablaze  with  a  savage  war  in  which  Jackson  with  an 
army  of  Tennesseeans  was  fighting  Creek  Indians, 
Spaniards,  renegade  Americans,  runaway  slaves,  Brit- 
ish secret  agents,  West  India  smugglers,  privateers- 
men,  pirates,  and  even  the  regular  forces  of  Great 
Britain,  for  a  major  with  a  force  of  marines  had  had 
the  effrontery  to  seize  the  Spanish  town  of  Pensacola 
and  make  it  the  base  for  conducting  intrigues  against 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       233 

the  neighboring  governments  of  Louisiana  and  Ken- 
tucky. With  this  fighting,  which  was  sharp  enough 
if  rather  irregular,  and  which  drove  Spain  from  the 
mainland  of  North  America,  we  need  not  deal  at 
length  here  and  now.  Enough  to  say  that  the  British 
failed  utterly  in  their  efforts  to  make  of  these  lawless 
and  ill-assorted  elements  serviceable  allies  to  their  own 
cause.  Even  the  pirates  of  Barataria,  the  doughty 
buccaneers  who  followed  the  banner  of  Lafitte  and 
had  their  stronghold  in  the  marshes  and  bayous  of  the 
Louisiana  delta,  repulsed  the  British  overtures  and 
turned  their  guns  on  the  British  invaders. 

Early  in  December,  the  lawless  elements  along  the 
Gulf  coast,  east  of  New  Orleans,  had  been  so  generally 
subjugated  that  Jackson  felt  safe  in  leaving  that  field 
to  others,  and  going  himself  to  the  defence  of  New 
Orleans.  It  was  high  time.  Indeed,  except  for  the 
phenomenal  energy,  the  unwearying  vigor  with  which 
he  pushed  the  preparations  for  defence,  the  British 
would  have  found  an  unprepared  city,  an  easy  prize, 
and  the  name  of  Jackson,  instead  of  being  identified 
with  one  of  our  greatest  victories  over  a  foreign  foe, 
would  have  been  a  synonym  for  costly  delay.  He 
risked  much  and  the  government  and  people  of  Louisi- 
ana were  equally  negligent.  The  British  fleet  was  off 
the  coast  of  Cuba  before  any  steps  had  been  taken  for 
the  defence  of  the  city.  Indeed  the  enemy  had  made 
a  landing  at  Chandeleur  Island,  near  the  mouth  of 
Lake  Borgne,  and  had  demolished  a  small  flotilla  of 
gunboats  posted  to  defend  that  route  to  New  Orleans 
before  any  real  activity  began  among  the  defenders  of 
the  city.  Then  Jackson  woke,  up  and  once  roused  to 
action,  he  was  a  man  to  compel  obedience,  admiration, 
respect,  and  loyalty.  Hns  couriers  flew  in  every  direc- 
tion bearing  orders  that  cracked  like  a  whip.  Fort 
St.  Philip,  near  the  passes  of  the  Mississippi  must  hold 


234         STORY    OF   OUR   ARMY 

out  while  there  was  a  gun  left  and  a  man  to  point  it. 
General  Coffee,  with  two  thousand  men  near  Baton 
Rouge,  was  called  to  make  forced  marches  to  the  men- 
aced city.  General  Winchester  was  put  upon  his 
guard  at  Mobile.  Volunteers  came  trooping  in — fish- 
ermen and  hunters  from  the  bayous  and  marshes, 
sailors  from  the  Gulf,  from  Grande  Terre  came  mem- 
bers of  Lafitte's  scattered  band  of  pirates  headed  by 
Dominique  You,  as  gallant  a  fighter  as  he  was  a  rapa- 
cious thief.  In  the  city  was  a  sorely  mixed  population 
of  Frenchmen,  Spaniards,  Creoles,  quadroons,  all 
nationalities  and  divers  mixtures.  It  was  no  part  of 
Jackson's  plan  to  let  them  sit  idly  back  while  others 
fought  in  their  defence.  "  Every  man  who  fails  to 
take  a  gun  and  report  for  duty,"  he  proclaimed,  "  will 
be  looked  upon  as  an  enemy  and  treated  accordingly." 
And  when  some  who  looked  askance  on  the  rough 
life  of  the  camp,  talked  of  the  writ  of  habeas 
corpus,  the  general  promptly  put  the  city  under 
martial  law  and  ran  it  without  interference  from  the 
courts. 

Meantime  the  British  were  landing  from  their  ships 
on  the  shore  of  Lake  Borgne.  The  obvious  way  to 
New  Orleans  was  up  the  Mississippi  from  its  mouth, 
but  the  current  was  swift,  and  the  way  blocked  by  Fort 
St.  Philip.  Accordingly  the  invaders  planned  to  ap- 
proach the  city  through  the  shallow  lakes  opening  off 
the  Gulf,  and  the  bayous  with  which  that  water-logged 
coast  is  fairly  honeycombed.  By  this  line  of  approach, 
two  English  officers  made  their  way  to  the  Villere 
plantation  only  six  miles  from  New  Orleans  and  re- 
turning, guided  thither  some  sixteen  hundred  men. 
The  plantation  house  was  seized,  its  occupants  made 
prisoners  lest  a  warning  be  sent  to  the  threatened  town, 
and  word  sent  back  to  the  British  camp  to  hurry  for- 
ward all  available  troops.     The  outpost  was  but  six 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       235] 

miles  from  the  city,  and  no  fortification  of  any  kind 
barred  the  pathway  thither. 

That  was  a  critical  moment  for  the  greatest  South- 
ern city  of  the  Union — a  city  which  indeed  promised 
then  to  be  the  greatest  in  the  Union  and  would  have 
fulfilled  that  promise  had  not  railroads  supplanted 
rivers  as  avenues  of  commerce.  The  British  were 
massing  before  its  undefended  streets  an  army  of  vet- 
erans, men  who  had  made  the  weary  marches  of  the 
Iberian  Peninsula,  and  withstood  the  fierce  assaults  of 
the  Napoleonic  legions.  Most  fortunately  for  New 
Orleans,  Major  Villere  managed  to  elude  his  guards 
and,  making  his  way  through  the  night,  reached  Jack- 
son's headquarters  and  gave  the  alarm.  Then  the 
tocsin  rang  out  from  the  great  bell  of  the  Cathedral, 
drums  beat  on  every  hand  and  into  the  Place  d'Armes 
—the  "Jackson  Square  "  of  modern  New  Orleans — 
poured  the  motley  throng  of  fighting  men.  Swiftly 
they  were  put  on  the  march  for  the  Villere  plantation, 
and  there  by  mid-afternoon  of  the  24th  of  December, 
1 8 14,  they  surprised  the  enemy  in  a  fog  so  thick  that 
in  the  hand-to-hand  fighting  which  occurred  friend 
could  hardly  be  told  from  foe.  The  armed  vessel 
"  Carolina  "  dropped  down  the  river  and  with  her  guns 
took  the  enemy  in  flank.  As  a  battle  it  was  satisfying 
— a  sort  not  often  to  be  seen  again,  for  all  weapons 
from  fists  and  knives  up  to  artillery  were  employed  in 
the  melee.  The  fight  was  inconclusive,  though  the 
British  were  driven  back.  Its  chief  value  was  upon  the 
morale  of  the  American  troops  who  learned  by  it  that 
even  veterans  of  the  Peninsula  could  be  made  to  run 
away. 

Straightway  after  the  conflict,  Jackson  arranged  his 
army  on  the  neighboring  plain  of  Chalmette,  in  a 
straight  line  reaching  from  the  river  to  the  neighbor- 
ing cypress  swamp  with  a  shallow  canal  before  it.     The 


236         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

redoubt  was  mainly  of  earthwork,  though  the  favorite 
fiction  of  cotton  bales  playing  a  part  in  its  construc- 
tion has  some  slight  foundation  in  fact.  But  the  few 
bales  thus  used  proved  so  inflammable  that  they  were 
quickly  thrown  aside.  The  line  of  men  back  of  the 
breastworks  presented  a  curious  motley  appearance. 
Lanky  Tennesseeans  in  coon-skin  hats  stood  side  by 
side  with  debonair  Creoles  handling  the  carabines  of 
Old  France.  A  group  of  sailors  from  the  "  Carolina  " 
which  the  British  had  destroyed  with  red-hot  shot, 
served  a  small  battery  of  ship's  guns,  while  a  group 
of  swarthy  pirates  from  Barataria,  commanded  by 
Dominique  You,  served  two  24's.  Free  negroes  fought 
side  by  side  with  gaily  attired  New  Orleans  militiamen, 
who  in  the  days  of  peace  looked  upon  them  with  con- 
tempt and  scorn.  There  were  Frenchmen  there  who 
had  fought  with  the  Little  Corporal  and  were  not 
sorry  to  train  a  gun  again  on  the  Redcoats.  Motley 
the  line  may  have  been,  contemptible  perhaps  in  the 
eyes  of  a  trained  soldier  who  demanded  perfectly 
drilled  and  equipped  battalions.  But  the  men  behind 
that  redoubt  could  shoot,  knew  no  fear  and  were  quite 
aware  that  they  stood  at  a  crisis  in  their  country's 
history. 

For  more  than  a  week  the  foes  confronted  each 
other,  Pakenham  hurrying  forward  additional  troops 
until  he  had  six  thousand  seasoned  veterans  on  the 
field.  His  lines  lay  in  the  midst  of  rich  sugar  plan- 
tations, and  as  the  Americans  experimented  with  cotton 
bales  for  breastworks,  he  tried  hogsheads  of  sugar 
with  similar  ill-success.  Sand  and  sugar  are  not  irrec- 
oncilable in  groceries,  but  are  not  of  equal  value  in 
fortifications.  For  more  than  a  week  there  was  a 
spluttering  fight  between  the  two  foes,  the  most  serious 
fighting  being  an  artillery  duel  between  batteries  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  Mississippi  River.     The  Ameri- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       237 

can  battery  on  the  west  bank  harassed  the  British 
severely,  and  to  destroy  it  Pakenham  had  a  canal  dug 
and  boats  floated  through  from  Lake  Borgne  to  the 
river.  The  plan  was  to  make  the  attack  on  the  7th  of 
January,  moving  by  both  sides  of  the  river  simultane- 
ously. The  British  had  carefully  reconnoitred  the 
ground  in  front  of  the  American  line,  and  were  aware 
that  a  small  canal  or  deep  ditch  had  first  to  be  crossed, 
then  a  high  rampart  to  be  rushed.  To  deal  with  the 
former  they  made  fascines,  or  bundles  of  sugar-cane 
which  the  first  line  of  attack  was  to  throw  into  the 
ditch  filling  it  to  a  level ;  the  second  line  carried  scaling 
ladders  with  which  to  overcome  the  redoubt.  A  point 
near  the  swamp  end  of  the  American  line  was  chosen 
as  the  point  of  attack.  An  American  deserter  had 
told  Pakenham  that  this  was  the  weak  spot  in  the 
American  defence.  This  was  true  when  he  reported 
it,  but  after  that  it  was  manned  by  Kentucky  and 
Tennessee  riflemen — hunters  whose  chosen  targets  were 
the  swift  speeding  deer  or  the  leaping  squirrel.  To 
them  a  British  soldier  clad  in  the  gaudy  trappings  of 
the  day  was  a  mark  that  could  not  be  missed.  From 
the  point  at  which  the  British  lines  deployed  into  the 
open  to  the  ditch  was  about  four  hundred  yards — about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  level  plain  to  be  crossed  with  no 
shadow  of  protection  from  the  unerring  rifles  of  the 
mountaineers  who,  safe  behind  breastworks,  could  take 
calm  and  unerring  aim.  In  our  day,  with  modern 
tactics  the  advance  would  have  been  made  by  widely 
separated  men,  uniformed  inconspicuously,  running 
forward  a  few  score  yards  and  dropping  to  earth,  there 
to  cover  with  a  heavy  fire  a  like  rush  of  others  behind 
them.  But  in  18 14,  a  battle  was  more  of  a  pageant. 
The  British  were  clad  in  scarlet,  many  wearing  bear- 
skins, each  breast  crossed  by  white  pipe  clayed  belts 
with   a   glittering  buckle   showing  precisely  the  best 


238  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

point  at  which  to  aim.  They  advanced  shoulder  to 
shoulder  in  columns  with  sixty  men  to  the  front.  There 
was  no  spot  at  which  a  ball  could  pass  without  pierc- 
ing its  man.  Of  course  they  charged  steadily  and 
bravely.  The  British  soldier  has  always  been  notable 
for  dogged  courage.  But  flesh  and  blood  could  not 
stand  the  withering  fire  that  sprung  from  the  Ameri- 
can earthworks.  The  assailants  fell,  they  did  not  run. 
Like  grass  before  the  scythe  of  a  mower,  said  an  eye- 
witness, they  went  down.  At  last  the  whole  line  melted 
away  without  reaching  the  ditch  for  which  it  had 
started.  The  stragglers  made  their  way  back  to  shel- 
ter and  the  broad  plain  was  left  covered  by  spots  and 
patches  of  red. 

Rallied  and  reformed  they  returned  to  the  charge, 
this  time  at  a  run.  They  reached  the  ditch  but  by 
some  blunder  the  negro  regiment  bearing  the  fascines 
failed  to  reach  there  first  and  there  was  no  way  of 
crossing.  In  the  face  of  this  fatal  blunder,  the  troops 
wavered,  and  in  their  gallant  efforts  to  rally  them,  the 
officers  paid  a  heavy  toll  of  death.  Pakenham,  cheer- 
ing and  waving  his  hat  as  he  spurred  on  his  horse,  was 
struck  by  a  cannon  ball.  General  Gibbs  fell  within 
twenty  yards  of  the  redoubt.  Colonel  Dale  of  the 
Highlanders  was  slain,  and  his  regiment,  which 
went  into  the  fight  with  more  than  nine  hundred  men, 
came  out  with  only  140  alive  and  uninjured.  Two 
officers  only  reached  the  crest  of  the  American  works. 
One  fell  instantly,  riddled  with  bullets.  The  other 
boldly  demanded  the  swords  of  two  American  officers 
who  confronted  him.  They  laughed,  bade  him  look 
over  his  shoulder.  He  looked  for  the  regiment  he 
thought  was  at  his  back,  but  found  his  men  had  "  van- 
ished as  though  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed 
them  up."  The  whole  battle  took  twenty  minutes,  but 
for  hours  the  next  day,  while  the  white  flags  waved 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       239 

over  the  opposing  lines  the  burial  parties  labored 
laying  away  the  British  dead.  Nearly  700  were 
buried  including  3  generals,  7  colonels,  and  75 
officers  of  lesser  rank.  In  all  some  2,000  were 
killed,  wounded,  or  captured.  The  American  loss 
was  7  killed  and  6  wounded.  Jackson  had  about 
5,700  men  in  line  of  whom  it  is  said  "  barely  one-third 
fired  a  gun." 

For  more  than  two  weeks  General  Lambert,  who 
had  succeeded  to  the  British  command,  lingered  on  the 
field.  He  made  no  further  move  against  New  Orleans 
nor  did  Jackson  venture  to  attack  him.  The  war 
indeed  was  over;  had  been  officially  ended  before  the 
sanguinary  battle,  for  the  treaty  between  the  two  na- 
tions had  been  signed  at  Ghent  on  Christmas  Eve, 
1 8 14.  But  there  were  then  no  ocean  cables,  nor  even 
ocean  greyhounds  to  carry  swiftly  the  news  of  peace, 
and  it  was  long  weeks  before  the  intelligence  reached 
the  United  States.  Not  until  February  18  was  the 
treaty  approved  by  Congress  and  proclaimed  the  su- 
preme law  of  the  land. 

The  War  of  18 12  called  into  action  on  the  part  of 
the  United  States  56,032  regulars  and  471,622  militia 
and  volunteers.  Viewing  these  figures  one  is  some- 
what appalled  by  the  statement  of  General  Upton, 
the  official  historian  of  the  United  States  army  that 
"  the  largest  force  of  British  regulars  opposed  to  us 
was  16,500."  But  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  most 
of  our  regulars  were  of  little  more  service  than  the 
militia.  Men  are  about  alike,  whether  professional 
or  amateur  soldiers  and  the  superior  efficiency  of  the 
former  grows  only  out  of  their  greater  experience  in 
war.  In  18 12,  the  new  regular  regiments  were  no 
braver  than  the  new  militia  regiments,  but  in  the  Civil 
War  the  long  service  made  of  the  volunteers  a  fight- 
ing machine  quite  equal  to  the  regular  regiments,  and 


240         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

by  the  time  Appomattox  came  the  two  branches  of 
the  service  were  equally  efficient.  The  great  lesson 
of  the  War  of  1812  was  that  a  regular  army,  even 
though  a  small  one,  was  essential  to  the  national  de- 
fence, and  that  the  short  periods  of  enlistment  which 
resulted  in  the  melting  away  of  whole  commands  at 
critical  moments  were  fairly  suicidal.  The  lack  of  a 
regular  army,  too,  resulted  in  a  complete  lack  of  prop- 
erly equipped  general  officers.  Hence  the  disasters  of 
the  early  days  of  the  war  under  civil  officials  like  Hull, 
Dearborn,  and  Wilkinson.  It  took  nearly  three  years 
of  fighting  to  produce  leaders  like  Andrew  Jackson 
and  Winfield  Scott. 

If  the  war  had  not  been  glorious — as  was  indeed  the 
case  save  upon  the  ocean — it  had  at  least  not  been 
burdensome  upon  the  people.  In  contradistinction  to  the 
prodigious  number  of  troops  called  out  is  the  fact  that 
at  no  time  were  there  more  than  30,000  actually 
under  arms  and  thus  drawn  away  from  the  vocations 
of  peace.  In  no  battle  were  there  engaged  more 
than  4,000  men.  The  total  loss  of  the  whole  war — 
in  land  battles — is  estimated  at  less  than  1,600  killed 
and  3,500  wounded.  Foreign  trade  it  is  true  had  been 
killed  by  the  war,  but  the  energies  thus  checked  found 
outlet  in  domestic  manufactures.  The  embargo  was 
more  effective  than  the  highest  protective  tariff.  The 
British  raids  along  the  sea-coast  were  harassing  but  had 
no  effect  on  the  general  well-being  of  the  country. 
Not  a  single  town  of  any  commercial  importance  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  for  even  a  single  day.  And 
thus  when  peace  opened  once  more  the  ocean  highway 
to  American  ships,  the  store  of  produce  ready  for  ex- 
port was  prodigious  and  the  rejoicings  that  attended 
the  end  of  the  war  signalized  as  well  the  dawn  of  a 
new  era  of  prosperity. 


CHAPTER  X 

The  War  with  Mexico — Strengthening  the  Regular  Army— General 
Taylor  in  Mexico— Battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la 
Palma— General  Scott's  Invasion— Capture  of  the  City  of 
Mexico. 

Shortly  after  the  conclusion  of  the  War  of  1812 
Congress  enacted  a  law  for  the  establishment  of  the 
army  in  time  of  peace,  fixing  the  whole  number  of 
men  at  ten  thousand.  Military  historians  criticise  the 
law  for  defects  in  prescribing  the  form  of  organization 
of  the  forces,  but  at  the  same  time  recognize  in  it  the 
first  step  after  the  creation  of  the  United  States  to 
give  the  nation  a  true  and  a  continuing  army.  Major- 
General  Emory  Upton,  whose  book  "  The  Military 
Policy  of  the  United  States  "  is  the  final  authority  upon 
the  subject  says  of  this  law  and  its  effects: 

"  From  this  moment,  wherever  the  Regular  Army 
has  met  the  enemy,  the  conduct  of  the  officers  and  the 
men  has  merited  and  received  the  applause  of  their 
countrymen.  It  has  rendered  the  country  vastly  more 
important  service  than  by  merely  sustaining  the  national 
honor  in  battle.  It  has  preserved  and  still  preserves  to  us 
the  military  art;  has  formed  the  standard  of  discipline 
for  the  vast  -number  of  brave  volunteers  of  our  late 
wars,  and  while  averting  disaster  and  bloodshed,  has 
furnished  us  with  military  commanders  to  lead  armies 
of  citizens  whose  exploits  are  now  famous  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world." 

We  are  apt  to  think  of  the  period  between  the  end 
of  the  war  with  England  in  18 15  and  the  outbreak  with 
Mexico  in  1845  as  one  of  profound  peace.  But  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  there  was  scarcely  a  year  of  that  whole 

241 


242         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

era  when  some  portion  of  the  regular  army  was  not 
in  the  field  against  the  Indians,  and  the  border  warfare 
frequently  took  on  so  serious  a  character  that  a  call 
for  volunteers  was  necessary.  The  Seminole  War, 
the  Black  Hawk  War,  and  the  Florida  War  were  the 
chief  of  these  contests.  The  last  began  in  1835  with 
the  massacre  of  about  no  officers  and  men  of  the 
regular  army  by  the  Seminole  Indians  in  Florida,  and 
lasted  no  less  than  seven  years.  Though  the  war  was 
waged  against  an  uncivilized  enemy  ill-equipped  with 
arms  or  munitions  of  war,  and  numbering  only  about 
1,200  warriors  in  all,  there  were  employed  during 
the  seven  years  no  less  than  60,000  troops.  This 
seemingly  huge  force  to  employ  against  so  puny  a 
foe,  was  made  necessary  by  the  short  term  of  en- 
listments of  volunteers  and  militia.  The  "  three 
months'  "  regiments  had  scarcely  time  to  reach  the 
theatre  of  war  when  their  enlistments  expired  and 
they  went  gaily  home  as  though  from  vacation. 
General  Winfield  Scott,  to  whom  the  task  of  breaking 
up  the  Seminoles  and  moving  their  shattered  rem- 
nants from  Florida  had  been  committed,  once  incau- 
tiously expressed  his  confidence  that  he  could  speedily 
end  the  war  with  "  3,000  troops,  not  volunteers." 
The  nation,  firm  in  the  belief  that  a  citizen  soldiery 
was  the  ideal  military  defence  of  the  nation  rose  in 
clamorous  wrath.  In  vain  did  General  Scott  explain 
and  excuse.  Plaintively  he  wrote,  "  I  am,  of  course, 
delivered  over  to  the  hostility  of  the  whole  body  of 
the  militia,"  and  he  foresaw  clearly,  for  presently  he 
was  removed  from  his  command.  Yet  when  the  war 
was  ended  it  was  made  clear  that  had  it  been  fought 
by  a  comparatively  small  body  of  trained  regular 
troops  the  cost  in  years,  money  and  in  life  would  have 
been  vastly  less. 

Despite  this  fact,  however,  Congress  followed  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       243 

close  of  the  Florida  War  by  an  immediate  reduction 
of  the  regular  army  from  12,539  officers  and  men  to 
8,613.  Clear-sighted  men  could  already  dis- 
cern (1842)  on  the  southwestern  frontier  another 
war-cloud  gathering.  The  territory  which  came  in 
time  to  be  known  as  Texas  was  a  part  of  Mexico,  but 
fast  filling  up  with  immigrants  from  the  North,  men  to 
whom  the  Latin-American  ideas  of  state  and  church 
were  intolerable.  Their  continued  government  by 
Mexico  was  impossible,  as  impossible  as  it  would  be 
for  the  Americans  now  in  Alaska  to  be  governed  by 
the  native  Aleuts.  There  was  first  outlawry  in  Texas, 
then  organized  revolt  against  Mexico,  finally  success- 
ful revolution  and  the  creation  of  the  Independent 
State  of  Texas.  The  incorporation  of  that  state  with 
our  Federal  Union  was  as  much  a  case  of  manifest  des- 
tiny as  the  admission  of  Florida,  but  it  gave  to  the 
Mexicans  the  gravest  offence.  They  professed  to  see 
in  the  original  revolt  of  the  Texans  the  outcropping 
of  an  underhanded  intrigue  of  the  United  States  seek- 
ing for  more  land.  The  resentment  of  the  Mexicans 
was  echoed  by  a  large  portion  of  our  own  people,  who 
insisted  that  the  admission  of  Texas  was  a  scheme  to 
strengthen  the  Southern  states  at  the  expense  of  the 
Northern  commonwealths,  and  thus  to  bolster  up  the 
slave-holding  power — for  already  the  crusade  against 
slavery  was  in  full  tide  and  current. 

I  have  no  intention  of  discussing  here  the  reasons  for 
the  Mexican  War,  nor  shall  I  recount  the  bitter  denun- 
ciations by  the  Whigs  of  the  war  that  followed,  who 
declared  it  a  barbarous  squandering  of  blood  and  treas- 
ure in  an  effort  to  force  an  unwilling  people  into  our 
Union.  Something  of  that  feeling  still  exists,  but  one 
who  will  follow  the  course  of  the  Rio  Grande  and 
compare  the  states  of  that  Union  on  the  north  of  it, 
with  the  provinces  of  Mexico  on  the  south,  will  not 


244         STORY    OF   OUR   ARMY 

doubt  that  the  war  with  Mexico  made  in  the  end  for 
civilization  and  the  progress  of  mankind. 

While  the  question  of  the  annexation  of  Texas 
was  still  in  abeyance,  General  Zachary  Taylor  was 
ordered  from  New  Orleans  with  4,000  men  of  the 
regular  army  and  authority  to  call  on  the  governors 
of  adjacent  states  for  more  in  case  of  need,  to  protect 
the  frontier  of  the  United  States.  He  was  directed 
to  establish  himself  at  some  point  on  or  near  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  was  further  instructed  that  any  effort  of 
the  Mexicans  to  cross  that  stream  in  large  numbers 
would  be  construed  as  an  invasion  of  the  United  States 
and  the  beginning  of  hostilities.  From  time  to  time 
after  General  Taylor  had  taken  up  his  first  position 
at  Corpus  Christi,  he  was  given  more  warlike  orders 
and  finally  moved  his  army  to  Matamoras  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  Rio  Grande.  This  was  construed  by  the 
Mexicans  as  an  invasion  of  their  territory  and  a  de- 
mand for  his  retirement  was  made  upon  General  Tay- 
lor, who  gave  it  no  attention.  Then,  for  a  few  days, 
two  hostile  armies  confronted  each  other,  within  sight 
of  the  flags  and  sound  of  the  drums.  There  could  be 
no  hope  that  out  of  such  a  situation  anything  but  war 
could  come,  however  strenuously  the  governments  at 
Washington  and  the  City  of  Mexico  might  strive  to 
avert  it.  Come  it  did.  Two  American  officers  wan- 
dering out  of  lines  were  killed  by  the  Mexicans.^  A 
force  of  25  American  dragoons  reconnoitring  within 
territory  claimed  by  Texas  and  Mexico  were  cut  off 
and  killed  or  captured.  There  was  no  longer  any 
averting  the  conflict.  Congress  passed  a  bill  declaring 
that  a  state  of  war  existed  through  the  act  of  Mexico, 
called  for  50,000  volunteers  and  appropriated  $10,- 
000,000.    This  was  in  May,  1 846. 

Viewed  from  a  strictly  military  standpoint,  the  war 
with  Mexico  presents  as  unbroken  a  record  of  success 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       245 

as  the  War  of  18 12  did  of  disaster.  Palo  Alto,  Re- 
saca  de  la  Palma,  Monterey,  Buena  Vista,  the  siege 
and  capture  of  Vera  Cruz,  Cerro  Gordo,  Churubusco, 
and  Molino  del  Rey,  form  an  unbroken  list  of  victories. 
Yet  the  war  was  not  popular  during  its  prosecution, 
and  is  spoken  of  apologetically  in  the  histories  of  the 
period.  The  denunciations  of  it  in  Congress  and  in  the 
press,  the  excoriations  to  which  President  Polk  was 
subjected  because  of  it,  and  the  savage  sectionalism 
manifested  throughout  the  debate  have  affected  public 
sentiment  even  to  the  present  day.  Yet  no  one  who 
will  painstakingly  study  the  conditions  existing  along 
the  border  at  the  time  of  the  outbreak  of  hostilities, 
will  question  that  the  war  was  inevitable,  any  more 
than  one  familiar  with  the  present  states  of  Texas, 
Oklahoma,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona,  will  doubt 
that  it  was  for  the  ultimate  good  of  mankind. 

Hostilities  once  begun  progressed  rapidly.  General 
Taylor  had  under  his  command  an  effective  force  of 
about  3,500  men.  Four-fifths  of  his  officers  had  been 
educated  at  West  Point,  and  the  little  army  had  been 
continually  drilling  for  the  past  six  months  in  the 
camp  at  Corpus  Christi.  Though  he  had  called  upon 
the  governors  of  Louisiana  and  Mississippi  for  aid, 
the  storm  of  battle  burst  before  the  volunteers  could 
reach  him  and  the  battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de 
la  Palma  were  fought  with  his  original  force. 

While  building  a  fort  directly  across  the  river  from 
Matamoras,  General  Taylor  received  word  that  his 
base  of  supplies  at  Point  Isabel,  a  few  miles  distant, 
was  menaced  by  the  Mexicans.  With  the  greater  part 
of  his  army  he  went  thither,  leaving  a  small  detach- 
ment under  command  of  Major  Brown  to  hold  the 
fort.  The  Mexicans  attacked  as  soon  as  the  American 
column  was  out  of  sight,  but  as  they  confined  their 
attack  to  artillery  and  the  fort  possessed  good  bomb- 


246         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

proofs,  little  was  accomplished.     Before  leaving,  Gen- 
eral  Taylor  had  told  Major  Brown  that  all  he  wanted 
was  that  the  fort  should  be  held,  and  that  no  matter 
how  tempting  an  opening  might  be  proffered  by  the 
enemy,  the  garrison  must  not  be  put  in  jeopardy  by 
any  sortie.     Accordingly   for  six  days    the   fort  sus- 
tained a  heavy  fire,  replying  but  weakly  as  the  powder 
of  the  defenders  was  low  and  they  were  not  minded  to 
waste  it.     Probably  had  the  Mexicans  known  the  state 
of  affairs,  they  would  have  carried  the  fort  by  assault, 
but  they  contented  themselves  with  repeated  demands 
for  a   surrender,   and   a   heavy  bombardment  which, 
though  noisy,  did  but  little  damage.  The  garrison  was 
wearying  of  the  continued  cannonade  and  the  gallant 
Brown,  exposing  himself  in  a  tour  of  inspection,  had  re- 
ceived a  wound  which  turned  out  to  be  fatal^  when  the 
sound  of  guns  other  than  those  of  the  besiegers  fell 
upon  the  ears  of  the  besieged.     They  thought  they 
were  signal  guns  from  Taylor,  but  they  carried  in  fact 
a  grimmer  message,   for  that  officer,  returning  from 
Point  Isabel,  had  fallen  in  with  the  Mexicans  on  the 
field  of  Palo  Alto.     The  enemy  had  the  advantage 
of  an  intrenched  position  and,  according  to  Taylor,  of 
numbers  as  well— 6,000  to  his   2,300,  he  estimated. 
But  he  attacked  them  vigorously  and  drove  them  from 
the  field,   encamping  his  forces  there   for  the  night. 
The  next  day,  following  up  his  advantage  with  vigor, 
he  found  the  foe  strongly  posted  in  a  ravine  crossing 
the  road,  and  lined  with  picturesque  palm  trees— hence 
its  name  Resaca  de  la  Palma,  or  Palma  Ravine.    Again 
the    Americans    attacked    and    were    victorious    after 
sharp  fighting.     In  the  two  battles  the  Americans  lost 
170  killed  and  wounded;  the  Mexicans  about  1,000. 
General  Arista  fled  across  the  Rio  Grande  and  ulti- 
mately to  Monterey.     Taylor  in  a  few  days  crossed  to 
Matamoras  and  the  actual  invasion  of  Mexico  hab. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       247 

begun.  Prior  to  this  crossing,  the  fighting  had  been 
upon  ground  claimed  by  the  United  States  as  part  of 
Texas,  though  the  Mexicans  sturdily  denied  this  claim 
and  declared  that  the  invasion  of  their  territory  began 
when  Taylor  advanced  to  the  bank  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

These  three  victories  won  at  the  very  outset  of  the 
war  encouraged  the  people  of  the  United  States 
greatly.  More  than  that,  they  led  to  a  revolution  in 
Mexico  by  which  the  warlike  President  Parades  was 
driven  from  the  presidency,  and  General  Santa  Anna 
was  recalled  from  exile  and  made  President  in  his 
place.  It  was  the  theory  of  the  Administration  at 
Washington  that  Santa  Anna  was  not  unfavorably  in- 
clined to  the  United  States,  though  in  the  war  which 
resulted  in  the  independence  of  Texas  he  had  fought 
gallantly,  even  savagely  against  the  Texans  and  his 
name  had  become  synonymous  with  barbarity  and  mas- 
sacre. Nevertheless  in  his  return  to  power,  President 
Polk  thought  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  negotiate  for 
peace.  But  the  overtures  made  were  coldly  referred 
to  the  Mexican  Congress,  which  was  not  to  meet  for 
some  months.  For  the  United  States  there  was  then 
no  choice  save  to  prepare  to  push  the  war  to  the  ut- 
most. Taylor's  victories  had  fired  the  warlike  spirit 
of  the  land,  and  volunteers  when  called  for  responded 
eagerly.  Twenty-three  thousand  were  soon  under 
arms,  and  distributed  along  the  Mexican  frontier. 
The  Army  of  the  West,  under  General  Kearny  was  to 
invade  New  Mexico,  capture  Santa  Fe,  and  go  on  into 
California.  General  Wool  was  given  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Centre,  which  assembled  at  San  Antonio 
and  was  to  invade  Chihuahua.  Taylor's  Army  of 
Occupation  already  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  Rio 
Grande,  received  most  of  the  new  soldiers. 

Taylor  being  already  within  the  field  of  war,  should 
have  been  the  first  to  move.     The  Mexicans  in  his 


248         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

front  were  disorganized  and  demoralized,  a  thousand 
fleeing  before  a  mere  handful  of  United  States  dra- 
goons. One  such  pursuing  party  passed  a  hacienda  from 
the  gate  of  which  a  farmer  shouted  asking  where  they 
were  going.  "  Trying  to  catch  General  Arista,'*  was 
the  response.  "  Catch  him?"  said  the  native  in  sur- 
prise. "  Why  his  men  told  me  that  he  had  utterly 
destroyed  the  American  army  and  that  they  were  going 
to  Mexico  City  with  the  tidings  of  victory." 

The  Mexican  demoralization,  however,  was  not 
seized  upon  by  the  United  States  leaders  as  it  should 
have  been.  Volunteers  flocked  fast  to  Matamoras,  but 
they  were  of  course  raw  and  untrained  and  fit  only  for 
camps  of  instruction.  Nor  did  supplies  and  means  of 
transportation  keep  pace  with  the  flood  of  new  re- 
cruits. For  three  months  General  Taylor  was  occu- 
pied in  perfecting  his  new  army,  and  making  it  a 
dependable  machine.  But  during  those  three  months, 
the  Mexicans  were  equally  busy  in  fortifying  and  re- 
enforcing  Monterey,  which  all  foresaw  must  be  the 
next  point  of  attack  on  the  south  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

Meanwhile  the  Army  of  the  West  was  busy  with 
an  active  campaign  that  had  in  it  little  bloodshed  but 
was,  perhaps,  of  all  campaigns  since  the  Revolution, 
the  most  fruitful  of  national  good — for  it  gave  to  the 
United  States  New  Mexico  and  the  great  empire 
known  as  California.  It  was  not  a  large  army  to 
accomplish  such  great  ends.  Mustered  at  Fort  Leav- 
enworth, Kansas,  preparatory  to  setting  out  on  its 
campaign,  it  numbered  1,658  men  with  16  pieces  of 
artillery.  General  Stephen  W.  Kearny  and  Colonel 
Alexander  W.  Doniphan,  his  second  in  command,  were 
destined  to  write  their  names  large  in  the  history  of 
their  country.  In  June,  1846,  they  set  out  over  the 
plains  on  the  long  march  to  California.  Kearny  was  in- 
structed to  proceed  through  New  Mexico,  then  a  prov- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       249 

ince  of  Mexico  and  occupy  Santa  Fe,  its  ancient  capital 
and  a  spot  antedating  in  time  of  settlement  many  of  the 
most  populous  cities  of  the  United  States.  The 
march  was  arduous,  across  burning  plains  and  sun- 
baked deserts,  where  water  was  scarce,  muddy,  and 
tainted  with  alkali.  Every  obstacle  that  nature  could 
put  in  the  way  of  the  advancing  column  was  interposed, 
but  no  human  enemy  appeared.  Bands  of  Comanches 
rode  up  to  the  camp  but  only  in  friendship.  Settlers 
and  scouts  reported  Mexicans  lurking  in  the  distance 
but  as  their  haunts  were  approached  they  vanished, 
even  as  did  the  cool  blue  lakes  or  the  stately  cities  that 
the  mirages  painted  on  the  burning  sands  of  the  desert. 
Santa  Fe  was  occupied  without  a  shot  and  with  it  the 
territory  of  New  Mexico,  200,000  square  miles  with 
every  variety  of  soil  from  sandy  desert  to  fertile  val- 
leys and  lofty  peaks  were  added  to  the  domain  of  the 
United  States  by  the  mere  hoisting  of  a  flag  and  firing 
a  salute. 

Meanwhile  quite  unknown  to  General  Kearny,  or 
for  that  matter,  to  the  government  at  Washington, 
California  was  being  won  for  the  nation  by  wholly 
irregular  forces  under  the  command  of  Colonel  John 
C.  Fremont,  who  came  to  be  known  in  the  American 
political  vocabulary  as  the  "  Pathfinder. "  In  1845, 
this  officer,  with  a  party  of  50  or  60  men,  was  in 
California  on  an  exploring  expedition.  His  followers 
were  not  soldiers  in  the  sense  of  being  enlisted  men 
of  the  army,  but  they  submitted  to  a  sort  of  quasi- 
discipline,  acknowledged  Fremont  as  their  leader  and 
could  fight  if  necessary.  The  times  in  California  were 
treacherous.  It  was  still  Mexican  territory  but  was 
filling  fast  with  Americans,  and  though  war  had  not 
been  declared  with  Mexico,  the  rumors  of  revolution 
after  the  Mexican  fashion  were  general.  Indeed 
these  rumors  had  reached  the  ears  of  President  Polk. 


250         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

That  statesman  was  sincerely  desirous  of  maintaining 
peace  with  Mexico.  But  he  was  even  more  desirous 
of  adding  California  to  the  territory  of  the  United 
States.  Accordingly  in  dispatches  to  one  Larkin, 
American  consul  at  Monterey,  California,  and  to 
Commodore  Stockton  who  had  two  United  States  ves- 
sels of  war  on  the  Pacific  coast,  he  instructed  them  to 
make  no  overt  move  against  Mexico  but  to  encourage 
any  possible  revolutionary  movement.  Naturally 
enough,  the  revolt  occurred,  and  a  handful  of  Califor- 
nians  raised  the  banner  of  independence  which  became 
famous  as  the  Bear  Flag.  Fremont,  with  his  men, 
already  under  suspicion  by  the  Mexican  authorities, 
joined  the  revolutionists,  and  with  them  was  on  his  way 
to  attack  the  Mexican  General  Castro  when  the  first 
tidings  of  the  declaration  of  war  with  Mexico  were  re- 
ceived. Without  more  ado  the  Bear  Flag  was  hauled 
down  and  the  American  Flag  waved  over  the  revo- 
lutionary army.  All  this  was  done  without  authority 
of  any  sort  from  Washington.  Commodore  Sloat, 
commanding  the  Pacific  squadron,  hearing  of  Fre- 
mont's activity  and  inferring  that  an  officer  of  the 
United  States  army  would  not  embark  on  a  career  of 
conquest  without  orders  from  Washington,  proceeded 
to  capture  Monterey,  Sonoma  and  Sacramento,  raising 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  above  each  place  and  taking  pos- 
session in  the  name  of  the  United  States.  But  on 
effecting  a  juncture  with  Fremont,  and  learning  that 
that  officer  had  no  official  sanction  for  his  proceedings, 
the  Commodore  became  timid  and  set  off  for  Washing- 
ton, turning  over  the  command  of  his  ships  to  the 
second  in  command,  Commodore  Stockton.  Stock- 
ton had  no  such  compunctions  and  joined  with  Fre- 
mont, landing  his  marines,  and  proclaiming  himself 
Governor  of  California. 

So  it  happened  that  when  General  Kearny,   after 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       251 

taking  Sante  Fe,  undertook  to  carry  out  the  rest  of  his 
orders  by  invading  California,  he  was  met  early  on  his 
march  by  the  famous  scout,  Kit  Carson,  with  the  news 
that  the  work  was  done,  and  that  an  American  gov- 
ernor sat  in  Sacramento.  The  tidings  were  dishearten- 
ing enough  to  the  leader  who  had  expected  himself  to 
plant  the  American  flag  beyond  the  Sierras  and  to 
make  the  Pacific  the  western  frontier  of  the  United 
States.  However,  he  determined  to  continue  his  march, 
though  like  a  good  soldier  he  sent  the  major  part  of  his 
dragoons  back  to  join  General  Wool  who  was  about 
to  invade  Chihuahua;  for,  thought  Kearny,  since  Cali- 
fornia has  already  been  subdued  the  place  where  troops 
will  be  the  most  needed  will  be  along  the  Mexican 
border. 

As  it  turned  out,  however,  he  was  premature  in 
abandoning  his  hope  of  further  military  glory.  Stock- 
ton, thinking  California  thoroughly  subjugated  ap- 
pointed Fremont  governor  in  his  stead  and  sailed  away 
with  his  marines  to  attack  the  west  coast  of  Mexico. 
The  result  proved  among  other  things  that  it  is  some- 
times dangerous  to  teach  people  the  art  of  revolution. 
The  Californians  who  had  revolted  against  Mexico 
and  warmly  welcomed  Fremont's  aid,  became  discon- 
tented when  they  saw  that  the  officer  and  Stockton 
planned  nothing  less  than  their  own  immediate  incor- 
poration into  the  United  States.  They  had  dreamed 
of  a  free  and  independent  state  of  California,  and  as 
soon  as  the  naval  guns  and  marines  had  faded  beyond 
the  horizon  they  revolted  again.  Lieutenant  Gilles- 
pie was  driven  out  of  San  Pedro.  The  garrison  at 
San  Diego  fled  on  a  whaler  to  avoid  capture.  Lieu- 
tenant Talbot  was  forced  to  abandon  Santa  Barbara, 
and  by  the  time  word  could  be  gotten  to  Stockton  prac- 
tically the  whole  of  Southern  California  was  in  revolt 
against  both  Mexico  and  the  United  States. 


252         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

For  the  moment  Kearny  regretted  the  dragoons  he 
had  sent  back  to  Chihuahua,  but  he  soon  effected  a 
junction  with  the  forces  of  Stockton  who  had  returned 
in  haste  from  Mexico.  In  two  slight  skirmishes  the 
insurgents  were  routed  and  the  authority  of  the  United 
States  was  reestablished  over  California  without  fur- 
ther serious  fighting.  It  was  a  magnificent  and  a  glori- 
ous empire  to  add  to  the  nation — worth  perhaps  more 
than  all  the  rest  of  Mexico.  Yet  the  Mexicans,  busy 
with  the  invading  American  troops  along  the  Rio 
Grande  gave  but  little  attention  to  its  defence.  Per- 
haps they  foresaw  that  the  westward  course  of  Ameri- 
can settlement  made  the  loss  of  California  to  them 
inevitable  and  so  let  it  go.  At  any  rate  no  territory 
so  rich  and  attractive  was  ever  gained  by  a  nation  at 
so  little  cost  of  blood  and  treasure. 

The  detachment  of  the  Army  of  the  West  under 
Colonel  Doniphan,  who  had  been  ordered  to  join  with 
General  Wool  at  Sonora,  never  effected  that  junction. 
The  fault  was  Wool's,  he  having  been  delayed  at  Sal- 
tillo.  ^  But  Doniphan's  march  was  long  celebrated  in 
American  military  annals.  One  part  of  it  was  across 
ninety  miles  of  sandy  and  waterless  desert  which  the 
Mexicans  had  significantly  named  Jornada  de  la 
Muerte,  or  the  Journey  of  Death.  With  no  water,  nor 
any  wood  for  campfires  though  the  nights  were  bitter 
cold,  the  dragoons  plodded  along  over  the  soft  and 
drifting  sand  for  three  days.  Hunger,  thirst,  and  cold 
beset  them,  and  they  had  hardly  emerged  from  the 
desert  when,  on  Christmas  day,  a  heavy  force  of  the 
enemy  made  up  largely  of  cavalry  fell  upon  them,  dis- 
playing the  black  flag  and  crying,  "  No  quarter!" 
Doniphan's  troops  behaved  with  great  gallantry.  For 
an  hour  500  Americans  resisted  the  assaults  of  more 
than  1,500  Mexicans,  and  when  the  assailants  turned 
to    flee   it   was   with    a    loss    of   75    killed    and    145 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       253 

wounded.  The  Americans  reported  none  killed  and 
only  eight  or  ten  wounded.  The  blow  was  a  stunning 
one  to  the  enemy,  and  for  some  days  thereafter  on  his 
march  into  Mexican  territory  the  white  flag,  not  the 
black  one,  greeted  Doniphan  as  he  approached  towns 
and  villages.  El  Paso  was  occupied  without  resist- 
ance, and  an  immense  quantity  of  munitions  of  war 
captured  which  Doniphan  was  later  obliged  to  destroy, 
being  unable  to  use  or  transport  them.  A  few  rein- 
forcements reached  Doniphan  at  El  Paso,  though  Gen- 
eral Wool  was  not  heard  from.  With  his  augmented 
column,  numbering  little  more  than  a  thousand  men, 
Doniphan  took  up  the  march  to  Chihuahua.  Again 
the  forces  of  nature  were  more  cruel  and  more  ob- 
stinate in  their  opposition  than  the  forces  of  man.  A 
desert  of  deep,  soft  sand  sixty  miles  long  had  first  to 
be  crossed,  and  men  and  beasts  suffered  cruelly  for  lack 
of  water.  Many  horses  and  mules  had  to  be  aban- 
doned to  die  slowly  of  exhaustion  and  thirst,  and  only 
kindly  mutual  aid  helped  the  weaker  soldiers  to  get 
out  of  the  death's  valley  alive.  For  days  the  march 
was  through  deserts,  and  then  around  snow-encrusted 
mountain  peaks.  At  one  point  the  whole  command 
was  exposed  to  destruction  by  a  prairie  fire,  the  flames 
of  which  leaped  twenty  feet  high  and  threatened  to 
engulf  the  artillery  train  with  its  wagon-loads  of  ex- 
plosives. Overcoming  this,  as  they  had  the  other  ob- 
stacles placed  in  their  path  by  nature,  the  little  army 
of  Americans  came  at  last,  on  the  28th  of  February, 
in  sight  of  the  river  Sacramento  where  the  Mexicans 
had  established  a  great  armed  camp  and  were  prepared 
to  give  them  battle.  Outnumbered  four  to  one,  Doni- 
phan hesitated  not  a  moment,  but  attacked  with  such 
dash  and  gallantry  that  the  Mexicans  were  routed  and 
driven  from  their  intrenchments.  Never  did  a  con- 
fident foe  suffer  a  ruder  awakening.       Amongst  the 


254         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

spoils  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victors  were  a 
great  quantity  of  handcuffs  which  the  Mexicans  had  pro- 
vided for  the  American  prisoners  they  expected  to  take. 
The  trenches  were  but  eighteen  miles  from  the  city  of 
Chihuahua,  of  which  indeed  they  formed  the  main 
defence,  and  thousands  of  people  had  come  out  to 
vantage  points  on  the  neighboring  hills  whence  they 
could  witness  the  defeat  and  slaughter  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. Instead,  they  witnessed  the  complete  rout  of  their 
own  army  with  320  killed,  560  wounded,  and  70  made 
prisoners.  The  Americans  were  fairly  embarrassed  by 
the  prodigious  quantity  of  spoil  that  fell  into  their 
hands,  which  included  50,000  sheep,  1,100  head  of 
cattle,  100  mules,  25,000  pounds  of  ammunition,  and 
10  cannon.  Doniphan's  official  report  gave  one  offi- 
cer killed  and  1 1  men  wounded,  so  slight  a  loss  that 
it  throws  some  doubt  on  the  figures  of  losses  attributed 
to  the  enemy.  A  few  days  later  the  Americans 
occupied  Chihuahua,  a  city  of  some  25,000  inhabitants 
and  at  that  time  one  of  the  most  splendid,  archi- 
tecturally, of  the  smaller  Mexican  towns.  There  they 
remained  until  ordered  back  to  the  United  States. 

Splendid  as  were  the  achievements  of  the  Army  of 
the  West,  and  priceless  as  were  its  contributions  to  the 
territory  of  the  nation,  the  real  battle  for  the  subjuga- 
tion of  Mexico  was  fought  by  the  Army  of  Occupation 
at  first  under  General  Taylor,  later  under  General 
Scott.     In  that  army  there  served  in  the  capacity  of 
subalterns  young  soldiers  whose  names  in  later  years 
loomed  large  in  the  history  of  their  country.    Ulysses 
S.    Grant   was    there,    as    also   was    his    skilful    and 
high-minded    opponent,    Robert    E.    Lee.     Jefferson 
Davis  fought  bravely  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  the 
roster  of  regiments  engaged  at  Buena  Vista,  Vera  Cruz, 
and  Churubusco  bore  many  names  that  blazed  with 
heroic  fire  in  the  Civil  War. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       255 

While  New  Mexico  and  California  were  being  won 
General  Taylor  rested  quietly  at  Matamoras.  There 
was  trouble  about  supplies,  and  wagons  for  their  trans- 
portation, but  while  the  army  and  the  country  were 
impatient  at  the  time,  the  delay  was  in  fact  advan- 
tageous, as  it  gave  three  months  of  drill  in  the  instruc- 
tion camps  to  turn  the  raw  levies  of  volunteers  into 
something  like  an  army.  By  August,  1846,  the  gen- 
eral was  ready  to  move,  and  selected  as  his  objective 
the  city  of  Monterey.  The  delay  that  Taylor  had 
used  for  drill  the  Mexicans  had  employed  in  fortify- 
ing this  town  which  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  San  Juan 
River  and  was  completely  surrounded  by  forts,  two  of 
which  bore  the  strangely  contrasting  names  of  The 
Bishop's  Palace  and  El  Diablo;  however,  there  is 
nothing  in  names  and  the  Bishop's  Palace  proved 
harder  to  take  than  the  Devil.  Besides  its  outlying 
defences  the  whole  city  was  a  fort,  with  its  narrow 
streets  and  solid  masonry  houses.  After  the  tropical 
style  of  architecture  the  stone  walls  of  the  houses  rose 
three  or  four  feet  above  the  flat  roofs,  making  of 
each  house  a  miniature  fortress.  About  ten  thousand 
Mexicans  defended  the  town  and  the  forts  by  which  it 
was  surrounded.  General  Taylor  had  about  six  thou- 
sand men,  having  been  compelled  to  leave  an  equal  num- 
ber behind  at  Fort  Brown  for  lack  of  wagons  to  trans- 
port the  needed  munitions. 

During  its  advance  upon  Monterey,  consuming 
nearly  a  month,  the  American  army  met  with  no  op- 
position. Mexican  cavalry  hovered  about  the  front, 
but  retired  steadily  and  the  army  was  within  three  miles 
of  the  city  before  it  became  apparent  that  at  last  the 
enemy  intended  to  stand  and  fight.  One  of  the  first 
notes  of  defiance  was  a  cannon-ball  which  struck  within 
a  few  feet  of  General  Taylor  himself.  That  com- 
mander who  had  expressed  the  belief  that  the  enemy 


256         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

would  offer  rio  resistance  whatever,  was  moved  by  this 
incident  to  draw  off  somewhat  and  make  plans  for  a 
hard-fought  battle.  And  the  fighting  was  desperate, 
as  savage  as  in  any  battle  of  a  war  in  which  the  Mexi- 
cans proved  their  mettle  as  good  as  that  of  any  men 
who  ever  served  a  battery  or  breasted  a  bayonet  charge. 
The  citadel,  or  Black  Fort  as  the  Americans  called  it, 
a  masonry  work  about  200  feet  square,  with  a 
parapet  12  feet  thick  facing  a  12-foot  ditch,  beat  back 
Colonel  Garland's  command  of  Mississippians  and 
Tennesseeans  with  frightful  slaughter,  and  withstood 
charge  after  charge.  Once  the  Tennesseeans  led  by 
Lieutenant  Nixon  leaped  the  ditch,  scaled  the  wall,  and 
turned  the  guns  they  captured  upon  the  fleeing  gar- 
rison. But  the  foothold  thus  gained  was  lost  again 
and  the  citadel  remained  in  the  possession  of  the  Mexi- 
cans until  the  whole  army  capitulated.  El  Diablo  held 
out  all  of  the  first  day  and  part  of  the  second,  spitting 
out  grape-shot  and  rifle-balls  at  its  assailants  until  the 
guns  of  the  captured  fortress  El  Tanerio  were  brought 
to  bear  upon  it  when  its  defenders  fled.  By  roads  cut 
through  the  fields  of  corn  and  cane  the  Americans 
converged  upon  the  beleaguered  town  from  every  point 
save  the  side  protected  by  the  river.  There  was  no 
question  of  the  audacity  of  the  attack  nor  the  gallantry 
of  the  defence.  In  one  charge  a  Tennessee  regiment 
lost  100  out  of  its  300  men.  The  first  day 
ended  with  some  slight  advantage  to  the  Amer- 
icans, but  with  the  city  still  inviolate  and  the  Mex- 
ican flag  still  flying  defiantly  over  most  of  its  de- 
fences. 

A  bivouac  in  a  driving  rain  and  a  following  day 
of  rain  with  but  desultory  fighting  did  not  add  to  the 
comfort  or  improve  the  temper  of  the  warring  forces. 
The  dead  lay  unburied  in  the  fields  and  trenches,  and 
such  of  the  wounded  as  were  moved  from  the  spots 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       257 

where  they  had  fallen  received  their  succor  under  fire, 
for  the  armistice  proposed  by  the  Americans  for  this 
purpose  was  refused  by  the  Mexicans.  The  day  there- 
after however,  the  23rd  of  September,  the  fight  was 
renewed  with  such  vigor  that  the  assailants  were  soon 
in  the  city.  The  Bishop's  Palace  was  the  last  of  the 
outlying  defences  to  fall.  General  Worth  had  been 
directing  the  attack  upon  the  city  from  the  northwest; 
Taylor  from  the  northeast,  and  for  two  days  there 
had  been  no  communication  between  the  generals. 
Only  by  the  noise  and  smoke  of  battle  could  either 
judge  of  the  other's  position.  On  the  morning 
of  the  23rd  Colonel  Jefferson  Davis  was  ordered  by 
Taylor  into  the  city  from  his  side.  The  advance  was 
made  with  the  utmost  gallantry  accompanied  by  skilful 
tactics,  for  as  the  narrow  streets  were  made  charnel- 
houses  by  riflemen  on  the  roofs  Davis  broke  through 
the  walls  of  houses,  posted  his  own  men  on  the  roofs 
and  thus  fairly  tore  his  way  through  the  buildings  from 
street  to  street.  Worth's  men  were  fighting  their  way 
to  the  city's  heart  from  the  other  side,  and  the  Mexi- 
cans retreating  from  point  to  point  were  massed  in  the 
central  plaza  when  night  fell.  Throughout  the  dark- 
ness the  Americans  worked  bringing  up  guns,  pushing 
forward  troops,  and  making  ready  to  make  of  the  city's 
festal  square  a  place  of  bloody  carnage  when  day 
should  break.  But  before  morning  came  General 
Ampudia  sent  a  flag  to  General  Taylor  asking  for  an 
armistice. 

The  armistice  was  speedily  agreed  to,  the  terms  be- 
ing so  liberal  on  the  part  of  the  Americans  that  when 
the  report  reached  Washington  the  President  in  a  rage 
repudiated  it,  and  sent  orders  to  General  Taylor  to 
resume  the  offensive  at  once.  But  all  the  essentials 
of  the  agreement  had  by  that  time  been  fulfilled — 
the   Mexicans  had  marched  out,   saluting  their  flag 


258  STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

and  carrying  their  arms,  while  seven  weeks  of  the 
eight  weeks'  truce  provided  by  the  armistice  had 
passed. 

Military  authorities  do  not  take  so  harsh  a  view  of 
the  terms  agreed  upon  by  General  Taylor  as  did  the 
President.  In  the  battle  the  American  losses  were 
488  killed  and  wounded,  or  about  one-tenth  of  the 
force  engaged.  No  estimate  of  the  Mexican  loss  was 
made.  Promptly  upon  receipt  of  the  orders  from 
Washington,  General  Taylor  renewed  his  advance,  and 
entered  Saltillo  without  opposition.  General  Wool 
meanwhile  had  marched  with  2,400  men  to  a  point 
called  Parras,  seventy  miles  from  Saltillo. 

At  this  time  a  curious  thing  happened  which  might 
well  have  destroyed  a  great  part  of  the  American  army 
in  Mexico,  and  set  back  the  course  of  the  war  several 
years.  While  Taylor  was  winning  battles  along  the 
Rio  Grande  and  in  the  northern  tier  of  Mexican  prov- 
inces the  military  authorities  at  Washington  were  de- 
bating the  grand  stroke  of  the  war,  the  capture  of  the 
Mexican  capital.  There  was  discussion  as  to  how  it 
should  be  effected,  whether  from  Tampico  or  Vera 
Cruz,  seaports  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  which  our  navy 
could  readily  capture,  and  which  would  afford  a  base 
for  an  army  marching  upon  the  City  of  Mexico.  The 
project  of  reenforcing  Taylor  and  having  him  continue 
his  march  from  Monterey  southward  to  the  capital 
was  discussed,  but  wisely  abandoned.  Not  quite  so 
wise,  and  certainly  not  fair  to  this  victorious  general, 
was  the  determination  to  strip  him  of  all  his  regular 
troops  and  most  of  his  seasoned  volunteers,  to  be  given 
to  General  Winfield  Scott  for  an  expedition  against 
Vera  Cruz,  and  thence  to  Mexico  City. 

Despatches  to  this  effect  were  sent  to  Taylor.  In- 
stead of  reaching  him  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  Santa 
Anna  who  hailed  with  natural  glee  the  tidings  that  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       259 

general  who  had  been  beating  him  in  every  battle  was 
to  be  deprived  of  his  best  troops  by  the  political  author- 
ities in  Washington.     The  Mexican  general  began  at 
once  preparations  to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity 
thus  offered,  and  Taylor,  being  in  ignorance  of  the 
blow  that  President  Polk  was  preparing  to  deal  him, 
went  on  pushing  his  offensive  operations  in  a  way  that 
fairly  seemed  to    invite   the   attack   of   Santa   Anna. 
Hearing  that  a  naval  force  under  Captain  Perry  had 
taken  Tampico  he  resolved  to  occupy  Victoria,   the 
capital  of  a  nearby  Mexican  province.     Accordingly, 
he  called  into  action  the  troops  that  had  been*left  at 
Matamoras  under  General  Patterson  and  was  himself 
on  the  way  from  Monterey  to  meet  them,  when  he 
heard  that  Santa  Anna  was  about  to  attack  General 
Worth  at  Saltillo.     There  was  a  time  of  swift  chang- 
ing   of    plans,    much    countermarching,    and    seeming 
vacillation,  but   in   the   end  Victoria  was  seized  and 
there  Taylor  first  heard  the  news  of  the  stripping  of 
his  command.     General  Worth  and  4,700  men  were 
to  be  sent  to  Scott,  and  the  men  chosen  included  all 
but  one  thousand  of  his  regulars  and  half  his  veteran 
volunteers.     With  a  handful  of  trained  soldiers  and 
such  raw  recruits  as  he  could  gather  he  was  left  to 
hold  a  long  line  in  the  enemy's  country  already  menaced 
by  the  Mexicans'  most  dashing  general,  Santa  Anna 
and  a  force  of  twenty  thousand  men,  mostly  veterans. 
The    order    was   brutally    unfair    and   Taylor   made 
a  spirited  protest,  but  proved  his  title  to  the  affection- 
ate nickname  his  men  had  given  him,  "  Old  Rough  and 
Ready,"  by  preparing  to  do  his  best  with  the  force 
left  him.     Many  generals  in  such  case  would  have 
resigned — and  justifiably.     Taylor  stuck,  fought,  and 
won  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista,  and  with  it  won  the 
Presidency  of  the  United  States. 

After  seeing  the  flower  of  his  army  march  away 


260         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

to  join  Scott,  Taylor  returned  to  Monterey  and 
went  thence  with  his  entire  army  of  about  5,000 
men  to  a  point  called  Agua  Nueva,  about  20  miles 
from  Saltillo,  where  he  established  a  camp  of  instruc- 
tion. Most  of  his  men  were  sadly  in  need  of  drill, 
but  the  endeavor  to  make  soldiers  of  them  was  rudely 
interrupted  early  in  February,  when  at  the  news  of 
the  coming  of  Santa  Anna  Taylor  fell  back  with  his 
force  to  the  pass  of  Angostura,  a  narrow  defile  in  the 
mountains  which  he  had  previously  selected  as  the  spot 
at  which  he  would  fight  the  defensive  battle  on  which 
he  knew  the  fate  of  his  army,  and  the  future  of  all 
the  successes  won  by  the  American  army  in  that  part 
of  Mexico  would  depend.  A  hacienda,  or  large  planta- 
tion near  the  spot  was  called  Buena  Vista,  whence  the 
battle  afterward  took  its  name. 

The  Mexicans  approached  the  day  of  battle  with 
the  utmost  confidence.  Santa  Anna  had  with  him 
20,000  men,  well  drilled  and  equipped,  and  for  the 
most  part  veterans.  General  Taylor  had  4,759 
men  of  whom  but  517  were  regulars.  His  artillery 
under  the  command  of  the  regulars,  Sherman,  Wash- 
ington, and  Bragg,  had  seen  hard  service  and  gave  a 
gallant  account  of  itself  during  the  fight.  But  most 
of  his  troops  were  volunteers  and  their  action  on  the 
field  wins  high  plaudits  from  General  Emory  A. 
Upton,  whose  book,  "  The  Military  Policy  of  the 
United  States,"  published  by  the  government,  is  a  plea 
for  the  regular  soldier  and  a  long,  but  judicial  criticism 
of  the  record  of  the  militia  in  our  wars. 

Before  opening  battle  Santa  Anna  with  apparent 
good  reason  called  on  Taylor  to  surrender.  "  You 
are  surrounded,"  wrote  the  Mexican  chieftain  on 
the  morning  of  Washington's  birthday,  1847,  "  DY 
20,000  men,  and  cannot  avoid  being  cut  to  pieces.  I 
wish  to  save  you  this  disaster,  and  summon  you  to 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       261 

surrender  at  discretion,  and  give  you  an  hour  to  make 
up  your  mind." 

"  Old  Rough  and  Ready  "  rejected  the  hour  prof- 
fered for  reflection  and  sent  word  by  the  messenger 
who  brought  the  summons,  "  I  decline  acceding  to 
your  request." 

The  battle  was  begun  at  dawn.  The  ground  occu- 
pied by  the  Americans  was  rugged,  cut  up  by  gullies, 
flanked  on  one  side  by  a  deep  ravine  and  commanded 
on  the  other  by  a  considerable  mountain,  the  slopes 
of  which  were  held  by  the  enemy.  It  was  a  field  on 
which  artillery  could  be  of  supreme  service  and  the 
Americans  were  fortunate  in  having  several  batteries 
posted  on  ridges  that  commanded  the  line  of  the  Mexi- 
can attack.  But  by  their  superior  numbers  the  enemy, 
for  the  time,  threatened  to  sweep  the  Americans  away. 
They  hotly  attacked  on  each  flank  and  on  the  centre, 
the  attacking  body  in  each  instance  being  superior  in 
numbers  to  the  defenders.  A  large  body  of  cavalry 
had  been  sent  around  to  the  rear  of  the  American  lines 
to  cut  off  the  retreat  which  Santa  Anna  confidently  ex- 
pected would  follow  his  assault. 

But  the  Mexican  hopes  were  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment. The  first  day's  battle  was  largely  an  artillery 
duel  with  occasional  clashes  of  bodies  of  infantry,  but 
in  it  the  American  soldiers  held  their  ground  stub- 
bornly, beating  back  the  rushes  of  the  foe  as  a  rock- 
bound  coast  repulses  the  crashing  attacks  of  ocean 
breakers.  One  who  will  read  together  the  stories  of 
battles  like  those  of  King's  Mountain  and  the  Cowpens 
in  the  Revolution  where  the  militia  were  appealed  to 
fire  at  least  once  before  running  away,  and  contrast 
them  with  the  steadiness  with  which  the  volunteers  at 
Buena  Vista  bore  the  shock  of  assault  from  a  numeri- 
cally superior  force,  will  see  that  a  new  type  of  fight- 
ing American  had  been  developed.     Night  fell  on  the 


262         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

battle  field  without  the  Americans  having  been  forced 
an  inch  from  the  lines  they  had  taken  up,  and  through 
the  long,  cold,  rainy  hours  before  dawn  the  Mexican 
officers  could  be  heard  striving  with  eloquent  appeals 
to  nerve  their  men  for  even  more  dashing  service  on 
the  morrow. 

Day  had  hardly  broken  when  the  forces  of  General 
Ampudia,  the  general  who  had  been  defeated  at  Resaca 
de  la  Palma,  came  pouring  down  the  mountain-side  to 
overwhelm  the  American  left.  Lieutenant  O'Brien 
with  a  howitzer  and  two  cannon  held  them  in  check 
with  the  aid  of  a  heavy  infantry  fire.  In  the  centre, 
General  Moray  Villamil  was  trying  to  force  the  pass 
of  Angostura.  On  the  right,  General  Lombardini 
and  Pacheco  were  fighting  their  way  upward  to  a 
plateau  held  by  the  American  forces.  O'Brien's  fight 
was  perhaps  the  most  dashing  service  of  a  day  of  gal- 
lantry, for  more  than  half  an  hour  he  held  his  ground 
against  a  force  twenty-five  times  his  strength.  An  In- 
diana regiment  was  ordered  to  his  support,  but  through 
some  misunderstanding  of  orders  its  colonel  ordered 
a  retreat.  Others  strove  to  rally  and  lead  it  forward. 
In  the  confusion  that  part  of  the  field  narrowly  escaped 
being  lost.  Some  of  the  Indianians  rallied  and  were 
led  with  drum  and  fife  to  other  commands.  Others 
fled  to  Saltillo  where  they  proclaimed  the  day  was  lost. 
In  the  melee  O'Brien  was  obliged  to  withdraw  his  bat- 
tery leaving  behind  one  gun  for  which  he  had  not  a 
man  to  serve  or  a  horse  to  draw  it.  Pushing  onward, 
the  forces  of  the  Mexicans  carried  the  plateau  and 
turned  the  American  flank.  At  this  moment  General 
Taylor  himself  came  up  with  May's  dragoons  and  a 
regiment  of  Mississippians  under  Jefferson  Davis.  He 
formed  a  new  line  at  right  angles  to  the  old,  reformed 
the  shattered  commands  that  were  crumbling  away 
under  the  persistent  attacks  of  the  enemy.     The  Mexi- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       263 

cans  were  everywhere,  sweeping  down  the  hill-sides, 
trooping  along  through  the  gullies,  charging  across  the 
plateau.  Taylor  pushed  his  artillery  into  more  effec- 
tive positions.  From  ridges  and  foothills  thecguns 
roared.  Bragg,  Sherman,  Washington,  Thomas,  Rey- 
nolds, Kilburn — veterans  then  and  destined  in  later 
days  to  bear  yet  fiercer  visitations  of  fire  on  battle  fields 
of  the  Civil  War — worked  their  guns,  pouring  grape 
and  canister  into  the  crowded  lines  of  the  foe.  The 
Mexicans  in  their  turn  broke.  A  large  column  which 
had  gone  off  to  destroy  the  American  wagon  train 
near  Buena  Vista,  was  broken  by  the  artillery  and  part 
exposed  to  capture  by  May's  dragoons.  At  this  mo- 
ment four  Mexican  officers  were  seen  approaching 
with  a  white  flag.  Taylor  instantly  sent  out  the  order 
to  stop  firing,  and  the  attack  on  the  menaced  Mexican 
column  was  halted.  When  the  flag-bearers  came  to 
deliver  their  message  it  was  merely  that  General  Santa 
Anna  had  sent  to  "  ask  General  Taylor  what  he 
wanted !  " — a  most  extraordinary  message  and  one  not 
warranting  the  employment  of  a  flag  of  truce.  But 
as  during  the  temporary  cessation  of  hostilities  the 
Mexican  detachment  which  had  been  on  the  verge  of 
capture  had  made  its  way  to  safety  the  purpose  of  the 
ruse  was  very  apparent. 

Throughout  the  day  the  battle  raged  without  mate- 
rial advantage  to  either  combatant.  The  one  moment 
that  promised  disaster  to  the  Americans  was  when  the 
failure  of  the  Indiana  regiment  cost  O'Brien  his  guns, 
and  turned  the  American  flank.  But  that  disaster  was 
promptly  retrieved,  and  when  night  fell  the  Americans 
lay  down  again  in  their  places  expecting  a  renewal  of 
the  fight  on  the  morrow.  But  dawn  saw  a  field  de- 
serted by  the  Mexicans  save  for  their  dead  and 
wounded.  Under  cover  of  the  night  Santa  Anna  had 
stolen  away  with  his  great  army  leaving  the  handful 


264         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  Americans  whom  he  had  expected  to  cut  to  pieces 
in  possession.  He  had  lost  nearly  2,000  men,  of 
whom  294  were  prisoners.  The  American  loss  was 
756,  of  which  number  267  were  killed  and  456 
wounded. 

Santa  Anna  took  his  defeat  hard.  He  had  boasted 
much  of  what  he  would  do  when  he  found  and  gave 
battle  to  Taylor.  Destruction  of  that  general's  army 
was  the  least  part  of  his  programme.  He  would  sweep 
Mexico  clear  of  Americans,  retake  New  Mexico  and 
even  capture  and  sack  New  Orleans.  He  could  hardly 
bring  himself  to  acknowledge  his  defeat,  but  for  a 
time  sent  out  bulletins  announcing  his  complete  victory 
over  "  the  Yankees."  Some  of  these  bulletins  found 
their  way  to  New  Orleans  where  they  were  accepted 
as  the  truth  and  plunged  the  citizens  into  the  gravest 
alarm.  They  reached  Washington  and  the  administra- 
tion was  desperately  defending  itself  against  the  just 
reproach  of  having  stripped  Taylor's  army  to  favor 
Scott,  and  being  thereby  responsible  for  the  slaughter 
of  our  country's  sons,  when  the  true  tidings  arrived. 
Then  the  nation  went  wild  with  joy.  Cannon  roared, 
bonfires  blazed,  and  the  political  newspapers,  after  the 
manner  of  their  kind  to-day,  seeing  that  Taylor  had 
done  one  thing  well,  thought  he  could  do  all  other 
things  equally  well,  and  clamored  for  his  nomination 
to  the  presidency. 

He  had  indeed  done  well.  Of  the  battle  Colonel 
Matthew  Forney  Steele,  lecturer  before  the  United 
States  Army  Service  School  at  Fort  Leavenworth  says : 

"  In  all  the  annals  of  American  warfare,  no  other 
such  victory  as  that  of  Buena  Vista  can  be  pointed  out. 
Upon  ground  unprepared  for  defence,  with  its  left 
flank  practically  in  the  air,  .  .  .  this  little  body 
of  well-trained  volunteers  successfully  resisted  from 
daylight  until  dark  the  assaults  of  an  enemy  of  three 


Underwood  &  Underwood.  N.  T. 

COL.    ROOSEVELT   AND    HIS    ROUGH    RIDERS 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       265 

time's  its  own  strength;  and  at  last  repulsed  him  and 
kept  the  field." 

While  General  Taylor  was  thus  winning  battles  for 
the  nation  and  laurels  for  himself  in  northern  Mexico 
the  expedition  for  the  capture  of  the  City  of  Mexico, 
under  command  of  General  Winfield  Scott,  was  well 
under  way.  The  chief  port  of  Mexico  on  the  Gulf, 
and  the  seaport  nearest  to  the  City  of  Mexico  is  Vera 
Cruz.  In  1847  tms  was  a  town  of  about  twelve 
thousand  which  had  been  made  into  a  powerful  fortress 
by  a  line  of  intrenchments  and  redoubts  which  com- 
pletely surrounded  it  on  the  landward  side,  while 
towards  the  sea  it  was  defended  by  the  powerful  castle 
of  San  Juan  de  Ulloa,  built  on  an  island  about  one 
thousand  yards  from  shore,  garrisoned  by  about  one 
thousand  troops  and  mounting  heavy  guns,  many  of 
them  of  the  most  modern  type.  But  though  fairly 
secure  from  attack,  the  city  proved  in  no  condition  to 
withstand  a  siege.  Scott's  most  serious  opponent 
proved  to  be  nature,  for  the  spot  chosen  for  landing 
the  troops  and  artillery,  about  three  miles  south  of 
the  town,  had  but  little  protection  from  the  sea.  The 
troops,  some  twelve  thousand  in  all;  the  two  brigades 
of  regulars  commanded  by  Worth  and  Twiggs,  the 
three  brigades  of  volunteers  by  Patterson,  a  political 
general,  were  all  landed  on  the  morning  of  March  9. 
But  to  put  ashore  the  artillery  was  a  more  difficult 
task.  While  it  was  in  progress  the  troops  were  dig- 
ging intrenchments,  and  laying  batteries  for  the  in- 
vestment of  the  town.  Late  in  the  month  the  great 
guns  opened  fire.  Only  twelve  days  were  needed  to 
bring  the  defenders  to  terms.  After  the  complete 
investment  of  the  city,  General  Scott  sent  to  General 
Morales,  its  defender,  a  demand  for  its  surrender. 
He  pointed  out  his  cannon  by  land  and  sea  bore  di- 
rectly on  the  town  and  that  a  bombardment  would 


266         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

be  cruel  in  its  effect  upon  non-combatants.  The 
Mexican  commander  refused  and  the  bombardment 
began.  Its  effect  was  terrific.  Vera  Cruz,  like  all 
Spanish-American  towns  was  closely  built  and  shells 
dropping  in  its  narrow  streets  filled  them  with  hurtling 
fragments  of  iron,  blew  in  the  fronts  of  the  adjacent 
houses  and  spread  death  and  wounds  on  every  side. 
The  houses  were  of  masonry,  but  not  stout  enough  to 
withstand  the  shells.  Women  and  children  were  slain 
while  praying  at  the  altars  of  the  churches,  and  at  one 
place  a  shell  burst  through  the  roof  of  a  hall  in  which 
a  meeting  was  being  held,  and  bursting,  killed  scores 
of  people.  The  Mexican  soldiers  were  brave,  but  this 
wanton  slaughter  of  non-combatants  was  cruel  to  look 
upon.  The  consuls  of  foreign  governments  stationed 
in  the  city,  sent  a  flag  to  General  Scott  pleading  for 
a  truce  and  the  removal  of  persons  of  their  nationality 
from  the  city,  but  as  opportunity  for  this  humane  act 
had  been  offered  by  Scott  before  beginning  the  bom- 
bardment and  refused,  he  now  declined  to  stop  his 
fire.  The  next  day  the  city  and  the  castle  surrendered, 
the  garrison  marched  out,  laid  down  their  arms,  and 
were  released  on  parole,  and  the  gateway  to  the  capital 
of  Mexico  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Americans. 

The  post-road  from  Vera  Cruz  to  the  City  of 
Mexico  crosses  a  level  plain  of  about  thirty  miles  in 
width,  then  begins  climbing  through  foot-hills  and 
mountains  to  the  elevated  plateau  on  which  stands  the 
Mexican  capital.  No  rivers  crossed  it.  Much  of  the 
way  it  led  through  a  fertile  and  well-settled  country. 
The  only  natural  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  invaders 
were  mountains,  and  narrow  passes  capable  of  easy 
defence.  From  the  sea  to  the  city  was  in  round  num- 
bers two  hundred  miles. 

Santa  Anna  after  his  defeat  at  Buena  Vista  had 
gathered  up  the  fragments  of  his  army  and  marched 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       267 

to  Mexico  City.  There  he  found  another  revolution 
raging — for  so  strong  was  the  fighting  instinct  in  the 
Mexicans  that  throughout  the  war  with  the  United 
States  they  were  continually  at  war  with  each  other. 
Santa  Anna  who,  notwithstanding  his  reverses,  enjoyed 
the  confidence  and  even  the  idolatry  of  the  Mexican 
people,  managed  to  patch  up  the  revolutionary  quarrel 
and  with  an  army  of  about  twelve  thousand  men  set 
out  down  the  road  to  Vera  Cruz,  meaning  to  meet 
the  "  Yankees"  in  the  mountain  passes  near  Jalapa 
and  block  their  advance,  if,  indeed  he  could  not  destroy 
them.  The  American  army  started  meanwhile  for  the 
same  point,  and  for  a  time  it  was  a  race  between  the 
two  commands  for  the  advantage  of  position,  but  the 
Mexicans  won. 

When  General  Twiggs,  in  command  of  Scott's  ad- 
vance reached  the  neighborhood  of  Jalapa,  he  found 
Santa  Anna's  army  strongly  posted  on  a  number  of 
hills  past  which  the  American  army  must  go  in  order 
to  reach  its  objective.  The  largest  and  most  com- 
manding of  these  eminences  was  called  Cerro  Gordo 
(literally  Fat  Hill),  and  from  it  the  battle  which  was 
fought  took  its  name.  For  five  days  the  Americans 
camped  in  the  vicinity  waiting  until  the  entire  army 
should  come  up.  The  Mexicans  had  every  advantage 
of  position.  Nothing  but  the  most  determined  fight- 
ing could  dislodge  them  from  their  works.  But  that 
was  precisely  the  kind  of  fighting  which  the  Ameri- 
cans employed.  For  nearly  three  miles  the  road  lead- 
ing up  to  Cerro  Gordo  was  blocked  and  flanked  by 
forts  perched  high  upon  the  neighboring  hills.  Scott 
determined  upon  another  road  and  set  his  men  to  cut- 
ting one,  behind  the  hills,  which  would  bring  his  troops 
out  in  Santa  Anna's  rear.  The  work  was  done  secretly 
and  was  all  but  completed  when  the  Mexicans  discov- 
ered it.     At  once  the  division  of  General  Twiggs  was 


i«8         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

sent  by  this  road  to  take  the  Mexicans  in  the  rear, 
while  the  high  hill,  El  Telegrafo,  was  captured  by 
assault  and  its  guns  together  with  a  number  of  fresh 
ones,  which  the  Americans  with  painful  labor  had 
dragged  to  the  crest  of  the  hill,  were  turned  upon  the 
enemy.  Under  cover  of  this  fire  the  American  infantry 
charged  up  one  after  the  other  of  the  hills,  until  the 
Mexicans  were  driven  from  all  save  the  tower-topped 
acclivity  of  Cerro  Gordo  itself. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  this  hill  in  turn 
was  assaulted,  the  Americans  charged  down  the  slope 
of  El  Telegrafo  and  up  the  steep  of  Cerro  Gordo  in 
the  face  of  a  savage  fire.  It  was  fighting  to  try  the 
best  and  stoutest  souls.  The  grade  was  steep,  the 
ground  rugged  and  covered  with  underbrush  which  im- 
peded the  movements  of  the  troops  without  giving 
them  cover.  Two  breastworks  crowned  the  hill  blaz- 
ing with  savage  musketry.  Both  were  taken  at  a  rush, 
and  as  the  Americans  marched  to  the  crest  they  saw 
a  body  of  friends  from  Twiggs's  division  climbing 
up  the  other  side  to  take  the  enemy  in  the  rear. 
Vasquez,  the  general  commanding  the  Mexicans  at 
this  point,  was  killed  with  several  other  officers,  and 
other  generals  were  taken  prisoners.  Their  troops 
fled  in  disorder  toward  Jalapa.  At  all  points  on  the 
broken  and  irregular  field  the  Americans  were  vic- 
torious, and  the  Mexicans  in  full  flight.  Santa  Anna 
seeing  that  the  day  was  lost,  cut  a  mule  loose  from  a 
stalled  gun  and  galloped  frantically  away  to  safety, 
followed  by  about  eight  thousand  men,  the  remnants 
of  his  army,  with  Harney's  dragoons  and  the  infantry 
of  Worth  and  Twiggs  in  full  pursuit.  At  mid-day  it 
ceased  to  be  a  battle  and  became  a  rout,  and  from  that 
time  until  night  fell  over  the  land  the  Americans  were 
pursuing  the  enemy  with  relentless  determination  to 
annihilate  that  army.     The  Mexican  disaster  was  com- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       269 

plete.  Of  the  12,000  men  who  had  gone  into  battle 
3,000  were  made  prisoners,  and  1,000  to  1,200  killed 
or  wounded.  Seven  regimental  standards,  43  pieces 
of  artillery  and  5,000  stand  of  arms  were  captured. 
The  American  losses  were  fixed  officially  at  33  officers 
and  398  enlisted  men.  Scott  himself  said  that 
"  Mexico  no  longer  had  an  army." 

The  way  to  Mexico  City  was  indeed  open  to  the 
American  general  but  just  at  that  juncture  an  obstacle 
to  military  efficiency,  familiar  in  each  of  our  wars, 
presented  itself.  Most  of  the  volunteers  had  been 
enlisted  for  twelve  months.  This  period  was  drawing 
to  a  close  and  General  Scott  lost  seven  of  his  eleven 
regiments  of  volunteers.  He  was  within  three  days' 
march  of  Mexico  City  but  with  his  force  reduced  to 
5,820  he  had  no  option  save  to  remain  on  the  de- 
fensive until  reinforcements  could  reach  him.  Three 
months  were  thus  idled  away,  the  Washington  authori- 
ties resuming  their  efforts  to  conclude  a  peace  and 
being  roundly  snubbed  for  their  pertinacity.  Looking 
back  upon  this  war,  at  a  moment  (1914)  when  new 
complications  with  Mexico  are  acute,  it  is  well  for 
Americans  to  take  note  of  the  tenacity  with  which  in 
1847  tne  Mexicans  clung  to  their  ideal  of  national 
honor,  and  the  determination  with  which  they  fought 
for  its  maintenance. 

Santa  Anna,  being  a  resourceful  leader,  though  he 
had  now  been  twice  beaten  in  battles  with  the  numeri- 
cal advantages  and  those  of  position  altogether  with 
him,  was  busy  during  these  days  of  quiescence  in  gather- 
ing a  new  army.  His  infantry  had  been  dispersed  or 
captured,  but  his  cavalry  had  escaped  with  him  and 
this  he  made  the  nucleus  about  which  to  build  up  a 
new  force.  The  Mexican  heart  was  fired  by  proclama- 
tions eloquently  denouncing  the  barbarity  of  the  Yan- 
kee  invaders,    skilfully   arousing  national  pride    and 


270         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

promising  dire  vengeance  upon  those  who  had  hum- 
bled the  national  banner.  As  proclamations  alone 
would  not  do  a  law  was  passed  making  army  service 
compulsory  upon  all  males  between  the  ages  of  sixteen 
and  sixty.  A  guerrilla  warfare  in  the  districts  held 
by  the  Americans  was  further  decreed  with  the  watch- 
word, "War  without  pity  unto  death!"  By  these 
and  other  expedients  Santa  Anna  succeeded  in  erect- 
ing upon  the  ruins  of  his  old  army  a  new  force 
approximating  30,000  men.  Convinced  that  the 
Americans  would  not  stop  short  of  Mexico  City 
every  road  leading  thither  was  heavily  fortified.  This 
was  the  easier  task  because  over  the  overflow 
of  the  valley  in  which  the  city  is  placed  at  certain 
seasons  of  the  year  the  roads  are  built  in  causeways 
with  ditches  on  either  side.  A  massed  column  of 
troops  advancing  along  such  a  road  affords  a  tempting 
target  for  artillery. 

By  August,  1847,  Scott's  army  had  been  increased 
to  about  13,000  men  of  whom  3,000  were  sick.  It 
was  encamped  about  150  miles  from  Vera  Cruz — a 
long  line  of  communication  which  it  was  difficult  to 
guard.  Cutting  loose,  therefore,  from  his  base, 
abandoning  his  communications,  leaving  his  sick  and 
convalescent  in  the  camp  at  Puebla,  General  Scott 
advanced  with  his  10,000  effectives  on  Mexico  City. 
He  was  staking  everything  on  victory.  In  defeat 
there  would  have  been  as  little  chance  of  retreat  for 
him  as  in  later  years  there  was  for  Sherman  when  he 
burned  Atlanta  and  started  on  his  march  to  the  sea. 

Marching  swiftly  without  opposition  through  a 
richly  cultivated  country  the  invaders  found  themselves 
on  the  fourth  day  on  the  slope  of  a  mountain  looking 
down  upon  the  valley  of  Mexico.  That  is  one  of 
the  world's  fairest  beauty  spots.  The  level  plain  lying 
under  a  bright  sky  and  with  a  climate  nearly  perfect 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       271 

and   equable   the   year   round,   was   clothed   with  the 
living  green   of   fertile  fields,   lined  with  the  silvery 
course  of  rushing  waters,  dotted  with  blue  lakes  and 
the  white  walls  of  villages  and  haciendas.     The  capital 
lay  in  the  centre,   fifteen  miles   from  the  spot  from 
which  General  Twiggs's  division,  leading  the  advance, 
first   looked    down   upon   this   lovely   prospect.     The 
country  that  looked  so  peaceful  was,  however,  feverish 
with  warlike  activity.     The  villages  and  haciendas  had 
been  stripped  of  their  men  and  boys  to  fill  the  ranks 
of  Santa  Anna's  army,  and  to  toil  with  pick  and  spade 
in  the  creation  of  breastworks  to  block  the  progress 
of  the  Yankee  host.     Every  road  was  thus  guarded. 
From  the  crest  of  El  Penon,  a  hill  utterly  inaccessible 
on  three  sides,  frowned  a  fortress  composed  of  three 
tiers  of  batteries,  mounting  50  guns  and  surrounded 
by  a  moat  filled  with  water  and  ten  feet  deep.    It  com- 
pletely commanded  the  national  road  by  which  hereto- 
fore the  Americans  had  advanced,  and  which  was  made 
unfit  for  further  use  by  the  fact  that  at  this  point  it 
narrowed  to  a  mere  causeway  bordered  by  marshes. 
Reconnoitring  this  position,  General  Scott  abandoned 
all  idea  of  storming  it.     After  a  careful  study  of  the 
country  he  determined  to  approach  the  city  from  the 
south  by  the  Acapulco  road.     The  defences  of  this 
path  were  by  no  means  contemptible.     At  Contreras, 
the  first  of  the  enemy's  positions  to  be  encountered,  22 
guns  were  mounted  on  a  commanding  hill  and  backed 
by    7,000    infantry   under    General    Valencia.     Santa 
Anna  with  12,000  men  was  intrenched  before  the  vil- 
lage of  Contreras  blocking  the  path  between  the  hill 
and  Churubusco.     At  the  latter  point  General  Ruicon 
with  7,000  troops  held  a  position  at  the  head  of  a 
bridge,  and  at  San  Antonio  nearby  was  General  Bravo 
with  3,000.     Another  road,  which  Scott  considered  for 
his  approach  but  abandoned,  was  guarded  by  the  for- 


272         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

tresses  of  Molino  del  Rey  and  Chapultepec  which  in 
the  end  the  Americans  were  forced  to  storm. 

On  the  19th  of  May,  the  divisions  of  Pillow  and 
Twiggs  painfully  cutting  a  road  for  themselves  through 
the  dense  thickets  of  chaparral  suddenly  came  into 
the  open  and  discovered  Valencia's  lines  scarcely  two 
hundred  yards  away.  The  hill  of  Contreras  there- 
upon became  the  Americans'  first  objective,  and  amid 
a  general  artillery  fire  and  clashes  of  infantry  the 
American  forces  worked  their  way  forward  during  the 
day  until  by  nightfall  a  great  part  of  the  army  was 
massed  in  the  village  of  Contreras,  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  and  between  the  troops  of  Valencia  and  Santa 
Anna.  The  position  was  a  precarious  one,  but  during 
the  night  a  path  was  found  to  the  rear  of  Valencia 
and  at  dawn  the  invaders  stormed  his  camp,  front  and 
rear.  The  surprise  of  the  Mexicans  at  being  thus  at- 
tacked was  complete.  Ignorant  of  the  route  to  their 
rear  they  had  prepared  only  for  a  frontal  attack,  and 
caught  between  two  fires,  broke  and  fled.  Their 
losses  by  death  and  wounds  were  heavy,  but  so  great 
was  the  number  of  prisoners  taken  that  the  Americans 
were  embarrassed  by  the  presence  of  their  captives. 
Four  generals,  a  small  regiment  of  lesser  officers,  and 
1,000  men  were  taken,  and  among  22  cannons  cap- 
tured the  Americans  discovered  to  their  joy  the  pieces 
taken  by  the  Mexicans  at  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista. 
They  were  discovered  in  the  heat  of  the  battle,  and  it 
was  with  renewed  zeal  that  the  Americans,  cheering 
wildly,  loaded  the  recaptured  guns  to  the  muzzle  and 
turned  them  upon  the  enemy. 

In  this  battle,  known  as  the  battle  of  Contreras, 
the  Americans  engaged  numbered  4,500;  the  Mexicans 
4,000.  Though  the  latter  fought  behind  breastworks 
their  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  was  700  to  the  Ameri- 
can loss  of  less  than  100. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       273 

Though  Santa  Anna's  force  was  less  than  three 
miles  away  from  the  battle  field  he  gave  Valencia  no 
assistance  whatever.  It  appears  that  the  assault  was 
begun  so  early  and  pressed  with  such  vigor,  that  by  the 
time  Santa  Anna,  hearing  the  noise  of  cannon,  roused 
and  formed  his  army  to  come  to  his  lieutenant's  aid, 
the  troops  of  the  latter  were  already  routed,  and  the  ad- 
vancing reinforcements  encountered  the  fleeing  troops 
and  fell  back  with  them.  Abandoning  his  attempt  to 
save  Valencia,  Santa  Anna  thereupon  fell  back  to  Chu- 
rubusco  where  he  halted  to  oppose  once  again  the 
Americans'  march  to  the  national  capital. 

At  Churubusco  was  a  massive  stone  building  orig- 
inally a  convent  but  which  the  Mexicans  speedily  con- 
verted into  a  powerful  fort  garrisoned  by  three  thou- 
sand men.  The  front  of  their  lines  was  covered  by  a 
bridge,  at  the  entrance  to  which  Santa  Anna  constructed 
a  tete  de  pont,  or  fort  guarding  the  bridge,  while  back 
of  the  river  was  his  entire  army  with  his  reserves. 

The  Americans,  who  had  followed  fast  on  the  heels 
of  the  retreating  Mexicans,  halted  at  a  crossroads  vil- 
lage, called  Coyoacan,  to  make  their  dispositions  for 
attack.  Here  the  army  was  broken  into  three  parts. 
One  under  Generals  Franklin  Pierce,  afterwards  Presi- 
dent, and  Shields,  was  sent  to  make  a  circuit  and  at- 
tack Santa  Anna  from  the  rear.  General  Pillow  was 
to  move  on  the  enemy  from  the  south.  Twiggs,  Riley, 
and  Smith  were  to  assault  the  convent  in  front.  At 
all  points  along  the  line  the  fighting  was  desperate 
and  bloody.  The  convent  proved  a  stubborn  nut  to 
crack.  A  high  stone  wall  pierced  for  musketry  was 
reenforced  at  the  corner  of  the  square  it  formed  by 
the  stone  convent  wall,  the  windows  of  which  blazed 
with  rifle  fire.  Outside  the  wall  were  field  works 
mounting  ten  cannon,  and  commanding  the  causeway 
by  which  alone  it  could  be  reached.     On  either  side 


274         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  the  causeway  were  spreading  cornfields  filled  with 
lurking  sharpshooters.  The  Americans  pounded  away 
at  this  citadel  with  artillery  and  musketry.  Mean- 
while a  few  hundred  yards  away  the  invaders  were 
fighting  hard  to  drive  the  Mexicans  from  the  tete  de 
pont,  and  cross  the  bridge.  For  a  time  it  seemed  that 
disaster  menaced  the  American  plan  at  this  point. 
Santa  Anna  put  into  the  defence  of  the  bridge  all  his 
available  men,  and  at  one  time,  attacking  the  Ameri- 
cans in  front  and  flank,  had  well-nigh  cut  the  line  of 
Pierce  and  Shields  to  pieces.  The  day  at  this  point 
was  saved  by  General  Pillow,  who,  hearing  the  heavy 
firing,  turned  aside  from  his  march  upon  San  Antonio 
and  took  the  Mexicans  in  flank.  Once  the  Mexican 
resistance  was  broken  the  whole  went  to  pieces  like  a 
house  of  cards.  The  tete  de  pont  abandoned,  its  guns 
were  turned  upon  the  convent,  which  though  It  stood 
out  for  two  hours  after  the  rest  of  the  Mexican  army 
was  in  full  retreat,  finally  succumbed.  Its  garrison 
joined  the  disorganized  remains  of  Santa  Anna's  army 
streaming  down  the  narrow  road  and  across  the  cause- 
ways to  Mexico  City. 

Had  Scott  ordered  a  general  pursuit  his  army  might 
that  night  have  been  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  the 
war  ended  without  further  bloodshed.  Indeed  some 
parties  of  Americans  did  press  the  pursuit  to  the  very 
walls  but  were  too  few  in  number  to  force  their  way 
through.  At  this  point,  however,  civilian  and  political 
influence  interfered  to  stay  the  military  arm.  Through- 
out the  war  President  Polk  had  been  obsessed  by  the 
idea  that  the  Mexicans  might  at  any  moment  accept 
propositions  for  peace.  Though  repeatedly  rebuffed 
he  clung  to  this  delusion  and  even  sent  with  the  army 
an  official  of  the  State  Department  named  Trist  with 
authority  to  negotiate  for  peace  at  any  time,  and  to 
halt   the   military   campaign   while   such   negotiations 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       275 

were  in  progress.  General  Scott,  at  first  bitterly  pro- 
tested against  the  Trist  appointment  and  autho- 
rity, but  in  time  became  reconciled  to  it,  and  even  con- 
ceived for  the  pacificator  a  great  personal  friendship. 
They  both  were  convinced  by  officious  persons  that 
if  the  successes  of  Churubusco  and  Contreras  were 
not  too  savagely  pushed  a  peace  might  be  negotiated. 
Accordingly  the  pursuit  was  called  off,  and  when  the 
time  again  came  to  actually  march  into  Mexico  City 
some  hundreds  of  American  lives  were  lost  in  winning 
what  after  the  battle  of  Contreras  was  to  be  had  for 
the  taking. 

The  battle,  the  fruits  of  which  were  thus  supinely 
sacrificed,  had  been  fiercely  fought.  9,000  American 
soldiers  had  attacked  and  driven  from  these  forti- 
fied positions  27,000  Mexicans.  Of  the  enemy  3,250 
were  killed  or  wounded  and  2,627  made  prisoners, 
including  more  than  200  officers.  16  officers  and 
120  men  were  killed  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
and  60  officers  and  816  men  were  wounded.  Among 
the  troops  captured  in  the  convent  were  what  were 
called  the  "  Patricio  companies  ";  commands  composed 
of  deserters — mostly  Irishmen — from  the  United 
States  army.  50  of  these  were  hanged  in  one  execu- 
tion. After  the  battle  an  armistice  was  declared  and 
peace  commissioners  appointed.  But  again  the  Mexi- 
cans merely  trifled  with  the  peace  proposals,  and  find- 
ing that  they  were  taking  advantage  of  the  cessation 
of  hostilities  to  strengthen  their  defences  and  recruit 
their  army,  General  Scott  abruptly  opened  operations 
again,  September  6. 

Eight  causeways  raised  about  6  feet  above  the  sur- 
rounding marshes,  at  that  time  gave  entrance  to  Mexico 
City.  All  were  fortified,  but  the  2  by  which  General 
Scott  chose  to  advance  upon  the  city  were  particularly 
well  defended,  being  commanded  by  the  formidable 


276         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

works  of  Molino  del  Rey,  Casa  de  Mata,  and  the 
Castle  of  Chapultepec.  There  has  been  some  military 
criticism  of  Scott's  choice  of  roads,  many  officers  of  the 
time  and  later  students  believing  that  he  could  have 
avoided  the  storming  of  Chapuletepec  and  the  conse- 
quent heavy  loss  of  life  by  following  other  roads. 
But  in  war  success  counts  and  success  Scott  won.  The 
Castle  of  Chapultepec  is  to-day  the  most  impressive 
feature  of  the  City  of  Mexico.  The  penetrating  and 
battering  power  of  modern  ordnance  have  ended 
forever  its  value  as  a  fortress,  but  in  1847  it  was  a 
formidable  defence.  The  massive  stone  edifice,  once 
a  bishop's  palace,  that  crowns  the  precipitous  hill,  was 
made  into  a  strong  fortress  heavily  armed  and  gar- 
risoned. The  hill  itself  was  150  feet  high,  crowned 
with  batteries  and  hedged  about  the  base  with  earth- 
works. The  whole  hill  was  enclosed  by  a  stone-wall 
at  the  western  end  of  which  were  the  stone  buildings 
known  as  Molino  del  Rey.  These  buildings  were  used 
as  a  foundry,  as  well  as  a  fort,  and  it  was  a  report  that 
the  Mexicans  were  taking  church  bells  thither  and  cast- 
ing them  into  cannon  which  roused  Scott's  ire  and 
caused  him  to  declare  the  terms  of  the  armistice 
violated.  Casa  "de  Mata  was  another  heavy  stone 
edifice  surrounded  by  earthwork,  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  from  Molino  del  Rey.  To  the  north  was  the 
aqueduct,  still  standing,  the  arches  of  which  had  been 
blocked  up  with  masonry.  The  whole  enclosure 
dominated  by  the  castle  was  one  great  fort  of  masonry 
and  earth. 

To  General  Worth  was  committed  the  task  of  driv- 
ing the  enemy  from  Molino  del  Rey  and  the  duty 
was  performed  with  singular  celerity.  A  storming 
party  of  but  500  men  dashed  forward  under  cover 
of  a  heavy  fire  from  the  supporting  batteries,  and 
by  sheer   audacity  drove   the   enemy   from  his   guns. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       277 

Had  there  been  a  stronger  force  to  hold  the  ground 
thus  won  heavy  carnage  would  have  been  averted,  but 
even  in  their  rout  the  Mexicans  discovered  how  slight 
was  the  force  from  which  they  fled,  and  rallying 
poured  a  heavy  fire  from  housetops  and  walls  until 
of  14  commissioned  officers  in  the  forlorn  hope 
11  were  struck  down.  While  they  wavered  under 
the  new  attack  support  came  to  them  and  Molino  del 
Rey  was  taken.  Its  guns  were  turned  on  the  enemy's 
other  defences  and  the  victorious  Americans  soon  after 
swept  over  the  crest  of  the  works  at  Casa  de  Mata,  ' 
which  was  soon  thereafter  blown  up.  Little  more 
than  two  hours  were  consumed  in  carrying  these  two 
strong  positions.  But  in  that  time  729  men  and  58 
officers  had  been  killed.  The  enemy's  loss  in  all 
narrowly  approached  3,000.  So  disheartened  and 
demoralized  were  the  Mexicans  that  it  is  probable  that 
had  a  charge  then  been  made  upon  Chapultepec  it 
would  have  been  taken  with  comparative  ease.  Gen- 
eral Scott,  however,  ordered  a  cessation  of  the  at- 
tack, though  the  day  was  still  young,  deferring  the 
final  assault  until  the  morrow. 

September  is  the  height  of  the  rainy  season  in  the 
latitude  of  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  the  canals  and 
ditches  by  which  the  suburbs  of  that  town  were  plenti- 
fully interspersed  were  filled  with  water.  After  the 
losses  of  the  first  day's  fighting  Scott  had  but  about 
six  thousand  men  with  whom  to  take  Chapultepec  and 
force  the  entrance  to  the  city.  Looking  back  after 
nearly  seventy  years  one  is  compelled  to  admire 
the  leadership  and  the  gallantry  of  the  American  forces 
in  Mexico,  for  though  invariably  outnumbered  and 
usually  engaged  against  fortified  positions,  they  were 
victorious  without  exception.  Nor  was  any  taint  of 
cowardice  discernible  in  the  Mexicans.  They  fought 
well,  but  the  Americans  outdid  them. 


278         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

On  the  night  of  the  nth  of  September  batteries  were 
posted  and  for  twenty-four  hours  the  fortress  on  the 
craggy  hill  was  pounded  hard,  until  its  defenders  were 
demoralized  and  its  guns  crippled.  On  the  morning 
of  the  13th  a  storming  party  of  260  men — a  true  for- 
lorn hope — provided  with  scaling  ladders,  prepared  for 
the  attack.  The  batteries  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
one  half  way  up  were  first  carried  by  Pillow's  men. 
Then  the  forward  line  was  opened,  the  stormers  rushed 
through  and  began  their  climb.  The  castle  blazed 
with  musketry  but  the  American  batteries  firing  over 
the  heads  of  the  storming  party  kept  the  defenders 
within  their  walls.  The  fight  was  sharp,  but  the  as- 
sailants reached  the  ditch,  planted  their  ladders  and 
swarmed  over  the  walls.  Like  many  another  frown- 
ing menace,  Chapultepec  proved  not  so  terrible  when 
once  attacked,  and  its  guns  were  soon  turned  on  the 
backs  of  the  Mexicans  who  were  serving  the  guns  in 
the  earthworks  at  the  foot  of  the  other  side  of  the 
hill.  This  cleared  the  way  for  Quitman,  who  had  been 
attacking  these  batteries  from  in  front  with  but  little 
measure  of  success,  but  when  the  shot  from  the  fort 
on  the  hill  behind  them  began  to  fall  among  the  defend- 
ers they  fled,  and  the  way  into  the  City  of  Mexico  was 
open. 

Worth  and  Quitman  pushed  their  way  along  two 
broad  roads,  built  on  causeways,  with  a  towering  stone 
aqueduct  extending  down  the  centre.  Shields  was  first 
to  reach  a  city  gate  and  was  about  to  assault  it  when 
an  aide  spurred  up  evidently  bearing  orders,  Shields 
feared  orders  for  him  to  defer  his  attack.  The  aide 
saluted,  "  General  Scott's  compliments,  sir,"  began  the 
messenger,  but  was  abruptly  interrupted.  "  I  have  no 
time  for  compliments  just  now,"  cried  Shields  and 
spurred  his  horse  forward,  out  of  reach  of  orders. 
The  gate,  that  at  San  Cosme,  was  soon  taken  and  Gen- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       279 

eral  Shields  had  the  pleasure  of  winning  for  his  volun- 
teers the  honor  of  being  the  first  to  enter  the  enemy 's 
capital.  Scott  soon  after  joined  the  column,  but  if 
he  commented  upon  his  lieutenant's  audacity  the  fact 
is  not  recorded.  The  incident  parallels  Lord  Nelson's 
famous  application  of  his  spy-glass  to  his  blind  eye  to 
avoid  seeing  a  signal  of  recall. 

Night  fell  with  the  hostile  forces  still  fighting  in 
the  streets  of  the  suburbs  and  along  the  city  wall. 
Hardly  had  darkness  fallen  when  the  Mexican  army 
began  its  withdrawal,  and  at  one  o'clock  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  14th  came  messengers  from  the  city  authori- 
ties to  say  that  there  was  no  longer  any  military  com- 
mand in  the  city  and  to  ask  for  terms.  Scott  refused 
to  treat  with  Alcaldes  and  city  counsellors  and  pushed 
his  troops  on  to  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  he  estab- 
lished his  headquarters  in  the  Government  Palace,  and 
raised  the  flag  over  the  Plaza,  citadel,  and  other  public 
places.  For  twenty-four  hours  there  continued  irregu- 
lar but  savage  fighting  in  the  streets  of  the  city.  The 
Mexican  soldiers,  before  they  fled,  freed  and  armed 
about  2,000  convicts  and  these,  with  a  mob  from  the 
squalid  sections  of  the  town,  attacked  the  troops,  fir- 
ing from  the  doors  and  windows.  Grape  and  canister 
were  employed  by  the  Americans  to  sweep  the  streets 
clear  of  these  rioters.  Heavy  cannon  were  turned  on 
the.  houses  from  which  shots  were  fired,  and  no  quar- 
ter was  granted  to  those  taken  with  guns  in  their  hands. 
A  few  hours  of  relentless  hunting  and  the  guerrilla  war 
in  the  streets  was  ended. 

The  campaign  in  the  valley  of  Mexico  cost  the  in- 
vading Americans  2,703  men  including  383  officers. 
The  Mexican  loss  was  7,000  killed  and  wounded,  and 
3,730  prisoners — or  a  total  equalling  the  whole  Ameri- 
can army  of  invasion.  In  the  series  of  victories  won 
the    Americans    took    20    standards,    75    pieces    of 


280         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

artillery,  57  cannon  mounted  in  fortresses,  and  20,00a 
stand  of  arms. 

With  the  fall  of  the  Mexican  capital  the  war  was 
practically  ended.  Most  of  Santa  Anna's  troops 
melted  away  during  his  flight  from  the  city,  but  with 
several  thousand  men  he  went  to  Puebla  where  a  little 
garrison  of  Americans  was  standing  out  against  a  siege 
by  guerrillas.  Only  about  500  men  were  thus 
hemmed  in,  their  besiegers  numbering  thousands. 
But  they  barricaded  themselves  in  the  Plaza  and  a 
neighboring  convent  and  for  thirty  days  held  out 
against  the  besiegers,  sallying  out  now  and  then  and 
burning  the  buildings  which  harbored  annoying  sharp- 
shooters. Santa  Anna's  arrival  at  the  spot  increased 
the  odds  against  them,  but  in  no  wise  lessened  their 
determination  nor  were  they  ever  dislodged.  The 
Mexican  commander  left  the  siege  to  meet  General 
Lane  who  was  marching  to  the  relief  of  the  garrison. 
The  usual  short  battle  and  retreat  of  the  Mexicans  fol- 
lowed, and  Santa  Anna  faded  from  the  military  life 
of  Mexico.  His  career  had  been  singularly  unfortu- 
nate. Not  one  victory  illumines  the  dark  record  of 
his  defeats.  Perhaps  no  other  general  could  have 
done  better,  but  in  his  disaster  Mexico  covered  him 
with  obloquy  and  would  doubtless  have  sacrificed  him 
had  he  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  faction  which  came 
into  power  with  his  final  downfall.  He  fled  the  coun- 
try and  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  the  West 
Indies. 

The  record  of  the  American  armies  throughout  the 
war  was  one  of  marvellous  achievement.  Not  one  de- 
feat blotted  their  escutcheon.  General  Taylor,  whose 
successes  made  the  earlier  days  of  the  war  glorious 
and  roused  the  country  to  its  enthusiastic  support,  was 
nominated  for  President  in  the  ensuing  election  and 
triumphantly  elected.     Scott,  whose  share  was  equally 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       281 

glorious  and  perhaps  more  arduous  and  more  effective, 
was  less  well  treated  by  the  politicians  but  aroused  the 
plaudits  of  military  men  of  all  nations  and  times.  Gen- 
eral Grant  says  in  his  "  Memoirs  " :  "  Both  the  strategy 
and  the  tactics  displayed  by  General  Scott  in  the  various 
engagements  of  August  20,  1847,  were  faultless,  as 
I  look  back  upon  them  now  after  the  lapse  of  so  many 
years."  His  audacity  amazed  some  professional  ob- 
servers. "  Scott  is  lost,"  said  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
when  the  news  of  his  abandoning  his  base  to  move 
upon  Mexico  City  reached  Europe.  "  He  has  been 
carried  away  by  success.  He  can't  take  the  city,  and 
he  can't  fail  back  upon  his  base."  But  Scott  took  the 
city  and  the  Iron  Duke  for  once  was  proven  wrong. 

The  war  was  fought  without  recourse  to  the  militia. 
It  was  a  war  of  invasion  and  fought  by  regulars  and 
national  volunteers  alone.  No  attempt  was  made  to 
test  the  constitutional  rights  of  the  militia  by  ordering 
them  to  cross  the  Rio  Grande.  The  total  force  em- 
ployed during  the  war  was  104,284,  of  whom  31,024 
were  regulars  and  marines.  The  money  cost  exclusive 
of  later  pensions  was  one  hundred  and  thirty  millions 
approximately.  Out  of  the  war  we  gained  Texas, 
New  Mexico,  and  California,  or  approximately 
851,590  square  miles,  equalling  17  times  the  area 
of  New  York  State.  The  wealth  represented  by 
this  territory  to-day  is  incalculable.  Nevertheless  the 
war  was  bitterly  criticised  by  a  large  share  of  the 
American  people,  and  even  to-day  is  held  to  have  been 
discreditable  to  the  United  States.  James  Russell 
Lowell  inveighed  against  it  in  his  Biglow  Papers,  and 
indeed  the  whole  brilliant  chorus  of  New  England 
writers  was  antagonistic  to  it.  The  opinion  of  a  not 
inconsiderable  number  of  the  Northern  people  was  ex- 
pressed by  Gerrit  Smith,  a  vigorous  abolitionist,  who, 
being  urged  as  a  presidential  candidate,  declared  that 


282         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

if  elected  he  would  stop  the  war  with  Mexico,  give 
back  the  territory  already  taken,  ask  the  pardon  of 
God  and  Mexico  for  the  wholesale  murder  of  the 
Mexican  people  and  abolish  the  army  and  the  navy! 
But  Mr.  Smith  was  neither  nominated  nor  elected. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  War  Between  the  States — The  Right  to  Secede — Eleven  States 
Leave  the  Union — Who  Owned  National  Property? — Anderson 
at  Fort  Sumter — Virginia  Invaded — Death  of  Ellsworth. 

Thirteen  years  after  the  war  with  Mexico  the  United 
States  found  itself  confronted  with  the  certainty  of 
civil  war.  During  that  brief  interval  of  peace  the 
regular  army  had — after  the  time-honored  practice  of 
the  Republic — been  allowed  to  languish  until  in  i860, 
it  numbered  but  16,367  officers  and  men.  It  had  been 
employed  mainly  in  suppressing  Indian  uprisings,  and 
its  scattered  companies  and  regiments  were  widely  dis- 
tributed among  the  states  west  of  the  Mississippi. 
Nominally  the  militia  numbered  3,000,000,  that  is  to 
say,  there  were  that  number  of  male  citizens  liable  to 
military  duty  in  the  land,  but  the  organized  militia 
numbered  but  a  few  thousands  and  only  a  few  regi- 
ments, organized  in  large  cities,  were  properly  drilled 
and  adequately  equipped. 

With  the  political  causes  of  the  gigantic  struggle 
between  the  people  of  the  North  and  South  that  en- 
dured from  1 86 1  to  1865,  and  tested  to  the  fullest  the 
courage,  capacity,  and  resources  of  the  warring  sec- 
tions, we  have  nothing  to  do  here.  A  sectional  division 
based  partly  on  slavery,  partly  on  antagonistic  com- 
mercial and  industrial  conditions  broadened  until  no 
bridge  could  span  the  chasm.  Being  unable  longer  to 
control  the  National  Government,  the  Southern  states 
undertook  to  withdraw  from  the  Union  peaceably. 
The  Northern  states,  having  control  of  that  govern- 
ment declared  their  purpose  to  compel  by  force  obedi- 
ence to  it  on  the  part  of  the  would-be  secessionists, 

283 


284         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

On  this  issue  the  war  was  fought,  not  on  the  slavery 
issue.  It  frequently  happens  that  a  war  is  ended  with- 
out the  settlement  of  the  issue  on  which  it  was  waged, 
but  with  the  incidental  determination  of  some  other 
question  equally  important.  Our  Civil  War  ended 
slavery  as  emphatically  as  it  ended  the  contention  that 
this  was  a  voluntary  Union  from  which  any  state  could 
withdraw  at  will. 

The  war  between  the  states  differed  in  one  respect 
from  the  typical  civil  war.  There  was  to  each  side 
an  enemy's  country.  It  was  not,  like  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  in  England,  a  struggle  between  hostile  factions 
in  the  same  neighborhood.  When  McDowell  crossed 
the  Potomac  in  1861  or  Butler  occupied  New  Orleans 
in  1862,  the  Union  forces  were  as  truly  in  an  enemy's 
country  as  were  Scott's  troops  landed  at  Vera  Cruz, 
or  the  Germans  when  they  crossed  the  Rhine  in  1871. 
In  Kentucky  and  Missouri  alone  did  the  true  conditions 
of  civil  war  arise;  there  brother  fought  with  brother 
and  neighbor  with  neighbor.  But  there,  too,  the  oper- 
ations of  the  organized  armies  were  of  the  least  im- 
portance; the  partisan  ranger  and  the  guerrilla  chiefly 
held  the  field. 

The  proportions  of  this  volume  make  it  impossible 
to  describe  in  detail,  or  even  in  some  instances  to  refer 
to  many  actions  which  were  contested  with  the  utmost 
gallantry.  During  the  four  years  of  the  Civil  War, 
there  were  clashes  between  the  hostile  forces,  the  stories 
of  which  are  full  of  the  picturesque,  and  brim  over  with 
deeds  of  individual  daring.  In  this  volume,  however, 
the  author  must  confine  himself  to  sketching  broadly 
the  grand  strategy  of  the  war,  and  describing  only  those 
battles  which  were  an  essential  part  of  that  strategy. 

The  seven  states  which  seceded  first  from  the  Union 
had  been  in  a  virtual  state  of  independence  for  some 
weeks  before  any  positive  step  was  taken  to  coerce  them. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       285 

They  had  seized  all  Federal  property  within  their 
boundaries,  including  forts  and  arsenals.  United 
States  judges  and  marshals  resigned  or  were  without 
power  to  enforce  their  decrees  or  carry  out  Federal 
mandates.  In  expectation  of  conflict  these  states  were 
strengthening  their  militia,  and  officers  of  Southern 
birth,  educated  at  West  Point,  were  resigning  from  the 
national  army  to  serve  their  states.  About  such  resig- 
nations there  was  much  bitter  feeling  in  the  North  at 
the  time  when  "  rebel "  and  "  traitor  "  were  the  only 
words  applied  to  the  man  who  honestly  and  sincerely 
believed  that  his  duty  lay  rather  to  his  state  than  to  the 
Union,  and  his  place  was  fighting  by  the  side  of  rela- 
tives and  neighbors  rather  than  against  them.  It  has 
been  pointed  out  that  182  graduates  of  the  West 
Point  Academy  rose  to  rank  above  that  of  colonel 
in  the  Confederate  army,  and  that  of  these  8 
were  generals,  15  lieutenant-generals,  and  48  major- 
generals.  The  student  of  our  military  history  will  find 
the  names  crowned  with  glory  in  the  Mexican  War 
winning  new  laurels  in  the  Civil  War  on  both  sides. 
Perhaps  the  Confederacy  had  rather  the  better  of  it. 
Distinctively  military  historians  complain  that  in  the 
earlier  days  of  the  war,  the  Union  authorities  looked 
with  little  favor  on  the  trained  West  Pointer  and  were 
inclined  to  put  volunteers,  often  politicians,  in  places 
of  command.  The  complaint  finds  striking  support 
in  the  fact  that  when  U.  S.  Grant  wrote  the  adjutant- 
general  saying  that  as  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  he 
felt  it  his  duty  to  offer  his  services  to  the  nation,  no 
attention  was  paid  to  his  letter  and  it  was  not  even 
filed.  Only  by  appointment  as  colonel  of  Illinois  vol- 
unteers, by  grace  of  Governor  Yates,  did  the  victor  at 
Appomattox  get  into  the  army  at  all. 

Whatever  the  right  of  it  may  have  been,  the  South 
was  determined  to  go  out  of  the  Union  and  many  of 


286         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

her  sons,  both  in  the  army  and  the  navy,  followed  their 
states.  But  on  the  question  of  taking  the  forts  at 
various  points,  built  by  Federal  revenues  and  manned 
by  Federal  troops  came  the  first  actual  warlike  clash. 
Several  such  strongholds  were  involved.  Forts  Pulaski 
and  Jackson  at  the  mouth  of  the  Savannah  River,  Forts 
Morgan  and  Gaines  in  Mobile  Bay,  Forts  St.  Philip 
and  Jackson,  near  the  passes  of  the  Mississippi,  were 
all  surrendered  to  the  forces  of  the  states  in  which 
they  were  located.  Fort  Pickens  in  Pensacola  Harbor 
was  saved  for  the  Union  by  Lieutenant  Adam  J.  Slem- 
mer,  who  scenting  trouble,  moved  without  orders  his 
one  company  of  United  States  regulars  from  the  main- 
land where  they  could  offer  no  effective  resistance  to 
an  attack,  to  Fort  Pickens  down  the  bay.  The  state 
officers  blustered  and  raged.  Slemmer  was  commanded 
to  surrender  "  in  the  names  of  the  Governors  of  Flor- 
ida and  Alabama."  He  refused.  "  I  am  a  soldier 
of  the  United  States,"  said  he.  "  The  governors  are 
nothing  to  me." 

A  week  later  appeared  another  flag  of  truce.  This 
time  the  bearers  were  two  officers  who  had  resigned 
from  the  United  States  army  and  navy  to  cast  their 
lot  with  the  South.  One  of  them  had  supervised  the 
building  of  Fort  Pickens,  and  expressed  some  surprise 
when  Slemmer  met  him  on  the  sands  before  the  sally- 
port and  declined  to  admit  the  visitors  to  the  fort. 
They  came  to  demand  the  surrender  of  the  work,  and 
brought  with  them  a  written  communication  to  that 
effect,  which  Colonel  Chase,  the  elder  officer,  proceeded 
to  read.  But  his  voice  soon  became  shaky,  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  he  thought  that  he  now  stood 
as  an  enemy  before  two  officers  of  the  army  in  which 
he  once  had  held  an  honored  station.  Stamping  his 
foot  with  vexation,  he  handed  the  paper  to  his  col- 
league, saying,  "  Here,  Farrand,  you  read  it."     But 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       287 

Captain  Farrand  was  equally  affected,  and,  with  the 
remark  that  he  had  not  his  glasses,  handed  the  paper 
on  to  Lieutenant  Gilman,  saying,  u  You  haye  good 
eyes;  read  it  for  us."  And  so  it  happened  that  the 
summons  to  surrender  was  read  aloud  by  one  of  the  men 
to  whom  it  was  addressed. 

Fort  Pickens  never  was  surrendered,  nor  despite  the 
bluster  of  the  state  authorities  was  it  ever  seriously 
attacked.  To  the  latter  reason,  no  doubt,  is  due  the 
denial  to  Slemmer  of  the  great  measure  of  fame  and 
immortality  won  by  Major  Robert  Anderson,  who  did 
at  Fort  Sumter  in  Charleston  Harbor  what  had  been 
done  at  Fort  Pickens,  but  was  driven  out  of  his  fort 
by  the  cannon  of  the  Confederates. 

In  November,  i860,  Fort  Moultrie  in  Charleston 
Harbor,  historic  as  standing  on  the  site  of  the  old  pal- 
metto fort  whence  Sergeant  Jasper  waved  the  flag  of 
the  colonies  during  the  Revolution,  was  garrisoned  by 
sixty-five  regular  artillerymen  of  the  United  States 
under  Major  Anderson.  The  commander  was  a 
Southerner  and  a  slaveholder  and  it  has  been  thought 
that  he  had  been  stationed  there  in  the  belief  that  he 
would  do  nothing  to  antagonize  the  hot-headed  people 
of  Charleston,  who  were  the  very  prime  movers  in 
the  secession  cause.  That  estimate  was  singularly  in- 
correct. From  the  moment  he  saw  evidences  of  hos- 
tility among  the  people  by  whom  he  was  surrounded 
he  began  to  prepare  for  the  defence  of  the  property 
committed  to  his  charge.  Fort  Moultrie  was  hopeless 
of  defence  against  an  attack  from  the  land,  having  been 
designed  as  a  water  battery  only. 

From  the  windows  of  his  quarters  in  Fort  Moultrie 
Major  Anderson  could  see  Fort  Sumter  rising  dark 
and  sullen,  like  some  rocky  crag  straight  from  the 
waters  of  the  bay.  About  it  on  every  side  the  tides 
rushed  in  their  daily  ebb  and  flow.     On  three  sides  not 


288         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

a  foothold  could  be  secured  at  the  base  of  the  massive 
brick  walls;  the  fourth  side  was  fronted  with  an  espla- 
nade, which  cannon,  in  the  flanking  towers,  could 
sweep  clean  with  grape,  should  any  enemy  secure  a 
lodgment  thereon.  The  nearest  point  of  land  on 
which  the  enemy  could  erect  batteries  was  more  than  a 
mile  away.  "  Once  in  Sumter,"  mused  the  major, 
"  my  command  could  hold  an  enemy  at  bay  until  those 
speech-making  fellows  up  at  Washington  can  determine 
whether  I  am  to  be  reenforced,  or  left  to  be  starved 
into  surrender." 

But  letters  to  Washington  pleading  for  authority 
to  remove  his  command  to  Sumter  were  unanswered. 
The  Buchanan  administration,  beaten  in  the  election 
of  i860,  was  serving  its  last  three  months  of  power, 
and  whatever  the  attitude  of  the  President  may  have 
been,  Floyd,  the  secretary  of  war,  was  warmly  devoted 
to  the  cause  of  secession.  Despairing  of  any  answer 
to  his  appeals,  and  convinced  that  the  South  Carolina 
troops  would  soon  attack  him  in  the  ruinous  Fort 
Moultrie,  Major  Anderson  determined  to  occupy  Fort 
Sumter. 

Christmas  Day,  i860,  came  and  passed  away  with  no 
festivity  to  mark  it  at  the  fort.  The  next  day  the 
routine  of  guard  mount,  drill,  and  parade  went  on  as 
usual,  with  nothing  to  indicate  that  anything  was  to 
occur  that  should  make  that  day  memorable  in  the 
history  of  the  nation.  But  just  at  nightfall  Major 
Anderson  called  his  officers,  and  said  quietly,  "  Gentle- 
men, in  twenty  minutes  we  will  leave  for  Fort  Sumter. 
Prepare  yourselves,  and  see  that  the  men  make  ready 
for  the  move." 

There  was  bustle  for  the  next  twenty  minutes  in  Fort 
Moultrie.  The  officers'  suppers  stood  smoking  on  the 
tables,  but  there  was  no  time  for  eating.  Every  one  was 
packing  knapsacks,  looking  up  arms  and  equipments, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       289 

and  preparing  for  a  quick  and  silent  march.  Just  at 
sunset  the  little  column  filed  out  of  Fort  Moultrie,  and 
took  up  the  march  to  the  point  where  boats  were  in 
waiting  to  ferry  the  troops  over  to  Fort  Sumter.  A 
rear-guard  was  left  behind  in  the  deserted  fort,  with 
orders  to  keep  the  passage  clear  for  the  boats,  even  if 
in  order  to  do  so  a  few  round  shot  had  to  be  sent  at 
the  Charleston  guard-boat  that  constantly  patrolled  the 
harbor  about  Fort  Sumter.  Soon  the  troops  were  all 
embarked,  and  the  heavy  boats  were  slowly  making 
their  way  across  the  water.  The  rear-guard  standing 
at  the  cannon  on  the  sea-wall  at  Fort  Moultrie  watched 
them  eagerly  in  their  sluggish  course.  Before  they 
were  half-way  across,  the  guard-boat  was  seen  steaming 
down  upon  them;  and  the  gunners  in  Fort  Moultrie 
brought  their  shotted  guns  to  bear  upon  her,  ready  to 
blow  her  out  of  the  water  if  she  should  attempt  to 
arrest  or  run  down  Major  Anderson's  troops.  But 
after  slowing  up  and  giving  the  boats  a  careful  exami- 
nation, the  people  on  the  guard-boat  seemed  to  reach 
the  conclusion  that  all  was  right;  and  in  a  moment  she 
was  lost  to  sight  in  the  gathering  darkness,  and  the  beat- 
ing of  her  paddles  died  away.  Five  minutes  later  the 
boats  made  fast  to  the  wharf  in  front  of  Fort  Sumter, 
and  the  troops  began  to  disembark. 

Signal  was  then  made  for  the  rear-guard  to  abandon 
Fort  Moultrie,  which  they  speedily  did,  first  chopping 
down  the  flag-staff,  spiking  the  cannon,  and  burning 
the  gun  carriages.  By  eight  o'clock  the  movement  was 
completed,  and  Anderson,  with  his  little  command  and 
provisions  enough  for  some  weeks,  was  safely  housed 
behind  the  massive  walls  of  Fort  Sumter. 

Acting  thus  of  his  own  initiative  Anderson  had 
shifted  the  responsibility  for  affairs  in  Charleston  Har- 
bor from  his  own  shoulders  to  those  of  President 
Buchanan  and  his  advisers.     The  Federal  troops  were 


29o         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

safe  for  a  time.  No  storming  party  could  take  that 
island  fortress.  A  bombardment  could  hardly  reduce 
it.  Starvation,  it  is  true,  might  compel  the  garrison 
to  withdraw  and  on  that  fact  hung  the  action  that 
finally  set  off  the  powder  magazine  of  civil  war.  Floyd, 
the  secretary  of  war,  furious  with  Anderson,  urged  the 
President  to  authorize  an  order  for  the  evacuation  of 
Fort  Sumter.  This  Buchanan  refused  to  do  and  the 
Secretary  resigned  to  become  a  brigadier-general  in  the 
Confederate  army.  Meantime  the  question  of  provi- 
sions for  the  garrison  became  pressing.  Buchanan,  still 
desirous  of  avoiding  anything  that  would  seem  like 
coercion  or  an  armed  invasion  of  the  South,  sent  a 
merchant  vessel,  the  "  Star  of  the  West,"  carrying 
two  thousand  troops  and  supplies  for  the  beleagured 
garrison.  She  carried  no  cannon,  nor  had  she  any 
naval  escort  to  enable  her  to  discharge  her  mission 
forcibly  if  necessary.  Though  the  administration 
strove  to  send  off  the  expedition  secretly  its  despatch 
was  well  known  to  the  Confederates,  and  when  the 
"  Star  of  the  West "  appeared  in  Charleston  Harbor, 
warning  shots  from  Fort  Moultrie  and  Morris  Island 
turned  her  back.  Fort  Sumter  fired  no  gun  in  her  de- 
fence, for  Major  Anderson  was  under  positive  orders 
not  to  fire  unless  himself  fired  upon.  The  affair  re- 
flected little  credit  upon  the  administration  which  had 
stooped  to  an  effort  to  clothe  in  secrecy  the  perfectly 
legitimate  reenforcement  of  a  United  States  fort.  As 
for  the  garrison  of  the  fort  it  was  furious  at  being 
compelled  to  witness  the  flag  fired  upon  without  one 
shot  in  its  defence. 

The  Buchanan  administration  went  out  of  office 
and  that  of  Lincoln  came  in.  It  was  determined  to 
send  a  relief  expedition  to  Sumter  but  the  preparations 
were  bungled,  and  the  news  of  the  project  reached 
Charleston  long  before  a  single  ship  was  ready.     The 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       291 

Confederates  instantly  summoned  Anderson  to  surren- 
der. On  his  refusal  the  bombardment  was  begun  early 
in  the  morning  of  April  13,  1861.  The  first  shot  was 
fired  by  a  venerable  Virginian,  Edmund  Ruffin  by  name, 
and  was  well  aimed,  for  the  projectile  struck  the  outer 
wall  of  the  magazine  in  Fort  Sumter,  burst,  set  fire  to 
some  loose  powder,  and  for  a  moment  made  the  de- 
fenders think  that  the  first  cannon-shot  had  exploded 
their  ammunition  and  blown  up  the  magazine. 

After  the  second  gun  the  firing  became  general. 
From  Morris  and  Sullivan  Islands,  and  from  Cum- 
ming's  Point,  from  Forts  Moultrie  and  Johnston  and 
from  the  floating  battery,  a  hail  of  shells,  bombs,  and 
solid  shot  was  poured  upon  Fort  Sumter.  The  thun- 
ders of  the  cannonade  rose  in  majestic  cadence,  and 
could  be  heard  far  out  at  sea.  Scars  began  to  appear 
upon  the  face  of  the  besieged  fort.  Clouds  of  dust 
and  flying  bits  of  stone  could  be  seen  as  the  shots  took 
effect.  Still  for  more  than  an  hour  it  maintained  a 
sullen  silence,  and  let  its  assailants  do  their  worst. 

By  half-past  seven  the  garrison  in  the  fort  had  fin- 
ished worrying  down  the  short  ration  of  salt  pork  that 
was  dignified  by  the  name  of  breakfast,  and  as  the 
drums  beat  the  assembly  the  soldiers  formed  in  one 
of  the  bomb-proofs  to  prepare  for  the  duties  of  the 
day.  By  this  time  the  enemy  had  secured  the  range 
of  the  fort  with  considerable  accuracy,  and  his  shells 
were  dropping  upon  the  parade,  and  his  solid  shot 
were  making  such  havoc  among  the  guns  mounted 
upon  the  parapet  that  the  necessity  for  keeping  the  little 
garrison  under  cover  was  obvious.  With  a  view  to 
saving  the  strength  of  his  men  as  much  as  possible, 
Major  Anderson  divided  the  garrison  into  two  "  re- 
liefs," and  fixed  the  time  each  should  serve  the  guns 
at  four  hours.  Soon  the  first  division  was  at  the  guns, 
and  with  the  nine  guns  they  were  able  to  handle  they 


292         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

opened  upon  the  batteries  on  Morris,  James,  and  Sul- 
livan's Islands  a  fire  so  vigorous  that  for  a  time  the 
Confederates  thought  that  in  some  way  the  fort  had 
secured  reinforcements  during  the  night 

But  after  two  hours'  firing  the  gunners  in  Fort  Sum- 
ter began  to  see  that,  with  all  their  enthusiasm,  they 
were  engaged  in  a  hopeless  contest.  Their  heaviest 
guns  they  could  not  use,  for  they  were  mounted  on  the 
parapet,  and  Major  Anderson  felt  his  force  too  small 
to  expose  the  lives  of  his  men  outside  of  the  bomb- 
proofs.  The  shell  guns  were  useless  for  the  same 
reason.  The  only  cannon  which  were  employed  in 
the  battle  (except  a  few  surreptitiously  discharged  by 
some  adventurous  gunners)  were  the  32-  and  42-poun- 
ders.  The  shot  from  these  cannon  rebounded  from 
the  iron-clad  battery  like  hailstones  from  a  roof,  and 
the  gunners,  after  seeing  their  best  cannon  prac- 
tice thus  wasted,  abandoned  that  target  and  turned 
their  guns  on  Fort  Moultrie.  But  there  they 
met  with  little  better  success.  The  massive  walls 
of  sand-bags  that  covered  every  exposed  point 
were  as  impenetrable  as  the  railroad  iron  that  incased 
the  iron-clad  battery.  The  embrasures  were  closed 
with  cotton  bales,  so  that  even  when  a  shot  from  Fort 
Sumter  entered  an  embrasure  it  did  little  harm.  Four 
hours  of  well  directed  cannonading  produced  no  more 
effect  upon  Fort  Moultrie  than  to  silence  one  of  its 
guns  for  a  few  minutes,  and  to  riddle  the  brick  bar- 
racks that  stood  at  the  back  part  of  the  fort.  There- 
fore, when  the  relief  came  to  take  the  guns  for  the 
second  period,  the  gunners  who  had  worked  four  hours 
to  achieve  such  puny  results  felt  their  enthusiasm  wan- 
ing somewhat,  though  their  courage  remained  undi- 
minished. Just  before  the  relieving  party  went  to  the 
guns  two  veteran  sergeants  of  the  first  detail  determined 
to  have  some  sort  of  revenge  upon  the  enemy.     Peer- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       293 

ing  out  of  an  open  port  they  looked  about  for  some 
vulnerable  object  upon  which  to  turn  their  guns.  About 
the  Confederate  batteries  no  living  being  could  be  seen, 
but  down  the  beach,  nearer  the  city,  was  a  large  crowd 
of  spectators.  On  these  the  veterans  trained  their 
guns,  and  sent  two  solid  shot  that  struck  the  beach, 
ricochetted  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  and  went 
crashing  through  the  walls  of  a  hotel  behind  them. 
Thereafter  the  sensitive  sergeants  were  not  troubled  by 
the  appearance  of  a  crowd  of  unsympathetic  lookers-on. 

By  this  time  it  was  nearly  noon.  Surgeon  Craw- 
ford, who  had  been  serving  in  command  of  one  of  the 
guns,  made  a  visit  to  the  parapet,  which  the  enemy's 
shot  and  shell  were  sweeping  at  a  fearful  rate,  and 
soon  returned  from  that  dangerous  post  to  report  that 
out  beyond  the  bar  he  could  see  the  forms  of  several 
vessels  dimly  outlined  through  the  smoke.  These 
were  the  vessels  of  the  relief  squadron,  and  their 
signals  to  the  fort  were  quickly  made.  Sumter  tried 
to  respond  by  dipping  her  flag,  but  the  halliards 
were  shot  away,  and  the  flag  caught  and  hung  helplessly 
at  half-mast. 

The  falling  of  the  flag,  though  but  temporary,  was 
construed  by  the  Confederates  as  a  surrender  and  soon 
afterward  one  enterprising  officer,  Major  Wigfall, 
reached  the  fort  in  a  row-boat.  Landing  on  the  espla- 
nade he  sought  admittance  but  could  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  no  one  save  a  soldier  loading  a  cannon  in  an 
embrasure  who,  amazed  at  the  spectacle  of  a  man  in 
full  Confederate  uniform,  refused  him  admittance. 
The  Confederate  shot  and  shell  were  hitting  the  fort 
in  numbers  quite  disquieting  to  a  gentleman  on  the  little 
platform  outside,  and  Wigfall  ran  from  one  casement 
to  another  until  he  finally  secured  admission.  Once 
in  Anderson's  presence  he  convinced  that  officer  that 
the  time  was  fit  for  surrender,  and  a  party  of  Confed- 


294         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

erate  officers  arriving  shortly  after  with  authority  to 
treat,  the  details  of  the  surrender  were  speedily  agreed 
upon.  At  noon  the  next  day  these  terms  were  carried 
out.  The  flag  was  hauled  down  from  the  flag-staff, 
while  the  little  garrison  that  had  endured  so  much  in 
its  defence  was  drawn  up  on  the  parade.  Unhappily, 
the  premature  discharge  of  a  cannon  during  the  salute 
led  to  the  death  of  one  of  Anderson's  brave  soldiers. 
The  Confederates  present  stood  with  uncovered  heads, 
while  this  one  victim,  of  what  had  otherwise  been  a 
bloodless  battle,  was  buried  within  the  walls  of  the 
fort  he  had  so  bravely  defended.  Then,  with  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  flying  at  their  head,  and  the  band 
playing  "  Yankee  Doodle,''  the  Federal  soldiers 
marched  to  the  vessel  which  was  to  take  them  out  to 
the  United  States  fleet.  The  fleet  once  reached,  the 
tattered  flag  of  Fort  Sumter  was  raised  to  the  masthead 
of  the  man-of-war  u  Baltic  "  and  saluted  by  all  the  other 
vessels  in  the  squadron.  Then  they  bore  away  to  the 
northward,  leaving  Fort  Sumter  in  the  hands  of  the 
Confederates,  and  as  Anderson  looked  back  and  saw 
the  almost  unknown  flag  of  the  Confederacy — the  Stars 
and  Bars — floating  from  those  shattered  ramparts,  he 
made  a  solemn  vow  to  raise  once  again  that  Union  flag 
over  Sumter's  bastions.  How  well  in  later  years  he 
discharged  that  vow  we  shall  yet  see. 

Some  thoughtful  writers  on  the  Civil  War  declare 
that  the  advocates  of  secession  blundered  gravely  when 
they  fired  on  Fort  Sumter.  Up  to  that  time,  though 
seven  states  had  seceded  and  the  authority  of  the 
United  States  was  flouted  within  their  borders,  the 
Federal  government  had  done  nothing  to  coerce  them. 
No  troops  had  been  ordered  to  the  states  affected.  There 
had  been  no  call  for  the  militia,  nor  anything  done  to 
show  that  the  authorities  at  Washington  intended  to 
maintain  the  integrity  of  the  Union  by  force.     Had 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       295 

this  condition  continued  much  longer  foreign  govern- 
ments might  have  considered  secession  as  an  accomp- 
lished fact  and  recognized  the  truant  states  as  inde- 
pendent nations.  But  the  shots  fired  at  Sumter  set  the 
nation  aflame.  Factions  in  the  North  disappeared. 
Everyone  was  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  The 
morning  after  Sumter  fell,  President  Lincoln  called 
for  seventy-five  thousand  men  to  put  down  the  "  insur- 
rection." Within  forty-eight  hours  the  needed  men 
were  under  arms  ready  to  march.  The  steps  of  most 
were  turned  toward  Washington,  for  in  the  East  the 
Potomac  was  the  frontier.  Passing  through  Baltimore 
the  Sixth  Massachusetts  Regiment  was  set  upon  by  a 
mob  and  four  of  its  members  slain  in  the  streets.  The 
blood  of  the  North  boiled  the  more  fiercely,  and  en- 
listments rose  far  above  the  number  of  men  called  for. 
In  two  weeks  General  Butler  with  four  regiments  en- 
tered Baltimore,  made  camp  there,  and  treated  the 
city  much  as  a  captured  enemy's  town. 

The  war  spirit  was  now  everywhere.  We  can  but 
briefly  note  some  of  the  more  epochal  events.  By 
June  24,  1 86 1,  eleven  states  had  seceded — Virginia, 
North  Carolina,  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Florida, 
Mississippi,  Alabama,  Louisiana,  Texas,  Arkansas,  and 
Tennessee.  Virginia,  the  state  which  bore  the  brunt  of 
the  fighting,  was  last  to  secede.  Nearly  one-half  of 
her  territory,  up  in  the  northwestern  corner,  populated 
by  mountaineers,  who  as  a  rule  were  non-slaveholders, 
refused  to  follow  the  rest  of  the  commonwealth,  broke 
away  and  organized  the  loyal  state  of  West  Virginia. 
The  state  of  Virginia,  itself  the  Mother  of  Presidents, 
hesitated  long  before  following  her  sisters  of  the  South. 
Her  noble  son,  Robert  E.  Lee,  though  destined  to  lead 
the  armies  of  the  Confederacy  and  to  remain  forever 
the  most  chivalric  exponent  of  the  Lost  Cause,  was 
opposed  to  secession  and  followed  his  state  out  of  the 


296         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Union  with  a  sigh.  Kentucky,  too,  though  a  slave  state, 
refused  to  secede.  For  a  time  its  authorities  strove  to 
keep  it  in  a  position  of  neutrality.  When  the  Presi- 
dent asked  the  state  for  its  quota  of  the  75,000  men 
called  for — four  regiments — the  governor  indignantly 
refused  to  furnish  one  man.  Encouraged  by  this,  the 
Confederate  authorities  asked  for  one  regiment  but 
met  with  a  like  rebuff.  This  does  not  mean  that  Ken- 
tucky furnished  no  men  to  the  war — it  did  by  thou- 
sands and  in  almost  equal  numbers  to  both  armies. 
But  the  enlistments  were  individual.  The  state  au- 
thorities had  no  share  in  them. 

"  It  was  no  uncommon  sight  in  Louisville  at  this 
time,"  writes  an  officer  who  served  in  Kentucky,  "  to 
see  a  squad  of  recruits  for  the  Union  service  marching 
up  one  side  of  a  street,  while  a  squad  destined  for  the 
Confederacy  was  moving  down  the  other.  In  the  in- 
terior a  train  bearing  a  company  destined  for  Nelson's 
(Union)  camp  took  aboard  at  the  next  county  town 
another  company  which  was  bound  for  Camp  Boone 
(Confederate).  The  officers  in  charge  made  a  treaty 
by  which  their  men  were  kept  in  separate  cars." 

Missouri,  a  neighboring  border  and  slave-state, 
largely  dominated  by  secessionist  influence,  still  re- 
mained with  the  Union.  A  state  convention,  dominated 
by  Unionists  and  neutralists  declared  for  neutrality. 
When  Lincoln  called  for  troops  the  governor  refused 
angrily,  declared  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  de- 
manded "  illegal,  unconstitutional  and  revolutionary; 
in  its  objects  inhuman  and  diabolical."  As  in  Ken- 
tucky both  factions  recruited  side  by  side  and  in  both 
of  these  states  the  fighting  had  the  character  of  a  true 
civil  war.  In  Missouri  the  battle  was  on  early  for 
control  of  the  state.  That  it  was  held  in  the  Union  was 
due  to  the  energy  and  courage  of  Nathaniel  Lyon, 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war  a  mere  captain  of  United 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       297 

States  infantry.  First  seizing  the  state  arsenal  at  St. 
Louis,  Lyon  disarmed  the  local  secessionists,  intercept- 
ing and  confiscating  arms  sent  them  by  Jefferson  Davis. 
This  he  followed  up  by  occupying  the  state  capital  with 
an  armed  force  and  expelling  the  governor  and  state 
officials.  As  a  result  of  these  drastic  measures,  Mis- 
souri never  formally  seceded  although  the  sympathy 
of  the  great  masses  of  its  people  was  with  the  South. 
Lyon  was  killed  in  the  first  and  only  considerable  bat- 
tle fought  on  Missouri  soil,  at  Wilson's  Creek  early 
in  August,  but  his  work  had  been  done.  Missouri  re- 
mained one  great  partisan  battle  field,  but  the  moral 
disaster  of  her  secession  was  averted. 

In  July,  1 861,  therefore,  eleven  states  were  definitely 
out  of  the  Union,  refusing  to  obey  the  national  laws 
or  to  recognize  United  States  officials,  whether  military 
or  civil.  Two  states,  Kentucky  and  Missouri,  were 
nominally  in  the  Union,  but  practically  debatable  ter- 
ritory, for  control  in  which  both  belligerents  fought 
savagely.  As  to  military  preparedness  the  South  was 
the  better  equipped  for  immediate  action;  the  North 
for  a  long  continued  struggle.  The  military  spirit  had 
always  been  strong  in  the  South.  Its  militia  organiza- 
tions formed  more  of  a  part  of  the  life  of  the  people 
than  in  the  North.  The  planters,  who  set  the  general 
pace,  were  all  horsemen  and  ready  with  their  weapons. 
Perhaps  the  ever  present  menace  of  a  servile  insurrection 
may  have  developed  this  military  spirit,  but  whatever 
its  cause,  it  enabled  the  South  to  put  more  and  better 
drilled  militia  regiments  into  the  field  with  greater 
promptitude  than  could  the  national  authorities.  But 
the  vastly  greater  population  of  the  North,  and  the 
ceaseless  flood  of  immigrants  into  Northern  ports  gave 
assurance  from  the  very  outset  that  in  a  contest  of  en- 
durance the  Northern  states  would  win. 

This  fact  should  have  led  the  Confederates  to  strike 


298         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

early  and  strike  hard.  For  months  they  had  the  city 
of  Washington  practically  at  their  mercy,  and  with  all 
the  governments  of  Europe  eager  to  assist  in  the  break- 
up of  the  Union  by  the  recognition  of  the  Confederacy, 
it  is  easy  to  imagine  what  the  effect  of  the  occupation  of 
the  National  Capital  by  the  Confederate  forces  would 
have  been.  But  it  must  be  said  for  the  politicians  who 
forced  the  secession  movement  that  they  were  at  least 
consistent  in  their  theories.  They  believed  that  their 
states  had  the  right  to  withdraw  from  the  Union. 
They  denied  to  the  remaining  states  any  right  to  com- 
pel them  to  return,  or  to  invade  their  territory  for  the 
purpose  of  enforcing  Federal  laws.  But  they  did  not 
believe  themselves  justified  in  invading  the  territory 
of  their  sister  states  and  accordingly  rested  within  their 
own  territory  until  attacked. 

May  24,  1 86 1,  the  day  after  Virginia  ratified  the 
ordinance  of  secession,  the  United  States  authorities 
took  their  first  warlike  step  by  sending  troops  across 
into  Virginia,  fortifying  Arlington,  the  ancestral  home 
of  Robert  E.  Lee,  now  a  national  cemetery,  and  Alex- 
andria, and  built  intrenchments  from  Chain  Bridge 
above  Washington  to  Alexandria  below.  In  occupying 
the  latter  town  a  tragedy  occurred  that  brought  the 
grim  fact  that  war  means  murder  very  much  home  to 
the  people.  For  some  years  a  militia  company,  known 
as  the  Ellsworth  Zouaves,  had  been  famous  throughout 
the  North  for  the  picturesqueness  and  precision  of  its 
drill.  As  a  military  organization  it  had  not  been  taken 
seriously,  being  rather  a  troupe  of  entertainers;  but 
with  the  outbreak  of  war,  Ellsworth  and  most  of  his 
men  at  once  enlisted,  and  the  command  was  increased 
to  the  proportions  of  a  regiment. 

On  the  day  of  the  advance  into  Virginia,  Colonel 
Ellsworth  and  his  men  crossed  the  Potomac  River, 
and  entered  Alexandria.     This  place  was  filled  with 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      299 

Confederate  sympathizers,  and  for  weeks  past  a  Con- 
federate flag  flying  from  the  roof  of  its  chief  hotel  had 
been  noted  by  the  loyal  people  of  Washington,  and 
had  even  been  visible  from  the  windows  of  the  White 
House.  Colonel  Ellsworth,  marching  at  the  head  of 
his  regiment,  remembered  this  flag,  and  as  soon  as  the 
town  was  completely  in  control  of  the  Union  forces,  he 
went  to  tear  it  down  with  his  own  hands.  It  was  a 
rash  act;  but  the  war  was  still  young,  and  officers  were 
apt  to  be  carried  away  by  their  enthusiasm.  Two  sol- 
diers accompanied  him  to  the  house. 

"  Whose  flag  is  that?  "  he  demanded  of  a  man  who 
stood  in  the  door. 

11 1  don't  know,"  was  the  cool  response. 

"  It  must  be  taken  down  at  once." 

"  Go  and  take  it,  if  you  want  it,"  responded  the  se- 
cessionist, turning  on  his  heel  and  walking  away. 

Followed  by  his  companions,  Ellsworth  ascended  to 
the  roof  of  the  house,  cut  the  halliards,  and  throwing 
the  flag  over  his  arm  began  to  descend.  Just  as  he 
reached  the  second  floor  a  door  opening  upon  the  hall- 
way was  thrown  open,  and  a  man  sprang  out,  levelled 
a  double-barrelled  shot-gun,  and  discharged  it  full  at 
the  breast  of  the  unfortunate  officer.  The  gun  was 
loaded  with  buckshot,  and  the  fatal  charge  drove  before 
it,  almost  into  the  heart  of  the  murdered  man,  a  gold 
badge  that  he  wore  pinned  upon  his  breast,  and  that 
bore  the  motto,  "  Non  nobis  sed  pro  patria."  Slain 
instantly  by  the  fearful  wound,  Ellsworth  fell  forward 
without  a  groan.  Then  the  sound  of  another  gunshot 
rang  through  the  house  as  one  of  Ellsworth's  com- 
panions sent  a  bullet  through  the  brain  of  the  murderer, 
and  followed  it  by  plunging  his  sabre-bayonet  again 
and  again  into  his  body.  Then  the  wife  of  the  dead 
secessionist  came  rushing  from  her  room,  threw  herself 
upon  the  body  of  her  husband,  and  called  upon  him  in 


300         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

tones  so  piteous  that  even  the  Zouaves,  mad  with  rage 
as  they  were,  could  scarce  conceal  their  pity.  The 
group  about  the  two  dead  bodies  in  the  dark  and  nar- 
row hall  made  a  scene  at  once  dramatic  and  appalling. 
It  was  described  in  the  vivid  phrases  of  the  newspaper 
correspondents  in  all  parts  of  the  country  the  next  day, 
and  carried  a  thrill  to  thousands  of  hearts  North  and 
South.  Each  of  the  two  dead  men  was  called  a  hero 
and  a  martyr  by  those  who  sympathized  with  the  cause 
which  he  represented. 

There  followed  some  weeks  of  skirmishing  along 
the  south  bank  of  the  Potomac  from  Harper's  Ferry  to 
its  mouth,  and  in  the  country  back  of  it.  But  it  was 
becoming  more  and  more  evident  that  the  real,  and 
effective,  fighting  was  to  be  on  the  line  between  Wash- 
ington and  the  Confederate  capital  at  Richmond.  The 
newspapers  of  the  North  had  hardly  seen  the  army 
move  across  the  river  into  Virginia  before  they  set  up 
the  cry  of  "  On  to  Richmond."  That  the  troops  were 
raw  and  undrilled  volunteers,  commanded  by  officers 
who  had  never  seen  a  battle,  did  not  dampen  the  ardor 
of  the  strategists  of  the  press.  They  felt  a  little  as 
did  General  George  B.  McClellan  who,  on  taking 
command  of  the  Union  troops  in  West  Virginia,  read 
an  address  in  which  he  said,  "  I  now  fear  but  one  thing 
— that  you  will  not  find  foemen  worthy  of  your  steel." 
This  fear,  it  may  be  noted,  was  very  speedily  dispelled. 

In  chief  command  of  the  United  States  armies  was 
General  Winfield  Scott,  a  veteran  of  the  War  of  1812, 
and  the  only  officer  in  the  army  who  had  ever  com- 
manded a  body  of  five  thousand  men.  But  Scott  was 
too  old  for  active  service,  and  the  command  of  the 
Union  army  south  of  the  Potomac  was  given  to  Brevet- 
Major  McDowell,  who  was  created  a  brigadier-general 
for  the  purpose,  but  whose  largest  command  prior  to 
that    time    had   been    a    single    company.     Curiously 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      301 

enough  the  Confederate  commander  directly  opposed 
to  him,  General  P.  G.  T.  Beauregard,  had  been  his 
classmate  and  friend  at  West  Point. 

Both  Scott  and  McDowell  understood  the  grave 
danger  of  complying  with  the  demand  for  an  advance 
with  the  force  at  their  command.  Whatever  the  Con- 
federate force  opposed  to  them  might  be,  the  Union 
army  at  the  time  was  clearly  unfit.  It  was  composed 
almost  entirely  of  men  enlisted  for  three  months  and 
the  term  of  their  service  had  already  more  than  half 
expired.  On  the  3rd  of  May,  the  President  had  called 
for  42,034  more  men  to  enlist  as  volunteers  for  three 
years,  and  in  the  regular  army.  Scott  was  anxious  to 
defer  an  advance  until  these  men  should  be  fit  for 
service.  But  the  country  was  determined  that  active 
operations  should  be  begun  at  once,  and  that  the  three- 
months  men  should  have  their  share  in  them.  ^  Accord- 
ingly in  deference  to  public  clamor,  preparations  were 
made  for  the  advance  that  terminated  in  the  disastrous 
field  of  Bull  Run. 


CHAPTER  XII 

*'  On  to  Richmond  " — The  Army  Advances  into  Virginia — The  Prob- 
lem Confronting  General  McDowell — Patterson  and  Jackson  in 
the  Shenandoah  Valley— The  Battle  of  Bull  Run— Jackson  Wins 
the  Title  "  Stonewall " — Defeat  of  the  Union  Army— Panic  in 
Washington. 

When  it  had  been  determined  to  defer  to  public  sen- 
timent, overrule  the  advice  of  trained  military  experts, 
and  begin  active  operations  against  the  enemy's  capi- 
tal, it  was  determined  to  strike  first  at  Manassas 
Junction  about  thirty-five  miles  south  of  Washington. 
Here  two  railroads  crossed.  One  ran  from  Washing- 
ton to  Richmond  and  thence  southward  through  the 
Confederacy.  The  other  led  westward  through  the 
mountains  to  the  fertile  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah. 
Recognizing  the  importance  of  the  railroad  junction, 
the  Confederates  had  thrown  up  earthworks  which 
were  manned  by  about  thirty  thousand  men  under 
General  Beauregard.  A  serious  factor  in  the  prob- 
lem of  attack,  however,  was  cited  by  General  Mc- 
Dowell in  the  discussions  of  the  plan  of  campaign  at 
the  War  Department.  He  pointed  out  on  the  map 
the  railroad  extending  from  Manassas  to  the  Shenan- 
doah Valley.  This  railroad,  being  within  the  enemy's 
line,  he  could  not  cut  or  destroy  until  the  enemy  had 
been  defeated.  In  the  meantime  it  was  at  the  service 
of  Beauregard  as  a  means  of  bringing  him  reinforce- 
ments. Moreover,  the  reinforcements  were  near  at 
hand,  for  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  was  the  Confed- 
erate General  Johnston,  with  a  force  of  more  than  ten 
thousand  men. 

"  I  can  beat  Beauregard's  force  with  an  army  of 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      303 

thirty  thousand  men,"  said  McDowell;  "  but  you 
must  see  to  it  that  Johnston  does  not  bring  his  troops 
out  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley  to  his  aid." 

"  General  Patterson,  with  an  army  of  far  greater 
strength,  confronts  Johnston  at  Harper's  Ferry,"  an- 
swered Scott.  "You  may  make  your  plans  in  full 
reliance  that  Johnston  will  be  kept  in  the  valley,  or 
that  if  he  does  move  it  will  be  with  Patterson's  twenty 
thousand  men  at  his  heels." 

Many  days  elapsed  between  the  time  of  the  decision 
to  move  upon  Manassas  and  the  actual  advance  of 
the  army.  Confederate  spies  in  Washington  kept 
the  leaders  at  Richmond  thoroughly  posted  upon  all 
the  preparations  that  were  making.  There  is  no 
more  romantic  chapter  of  the  war  than  the  story 
of  the  Confederate  secret  service  in  the  North,  though 
it  has  never  been  adequately  told.  Beauregard  knew 
all  about  McDowell's  plans  as  soon  as  they  were 
made,  and  some  things  he  knew  of  which  the  Wash- 
ington authorities  were  densely  ignorant,  to  their  sub- 
sequent disaster. 

One  of  the  latter  bits  of  information  was  that  Gen- 
eral Patterson,  commanding  the  Union  forces  in  the 
Shenandoah  Valley  was  not  an  adversary  to  be  greatly 
dreaded.  Patterson  was  a  veteran  of  the  War  of  1 8 1 2 
and  the  War  with  Mexico,  not  a  distinguished  officer 
in  either  but  a  patriotic  soldier  whose  services  were 
thought  to  entitle  him  to  a  command,  the  responsibili- 
ties of  which  his  years  ill-fitted  him  to  endure,  for  he 
was  well  past  seventy  years  of  age.  He  prepared  a 
great  expedition  for  the  capture  of  Harper's  Ferry, 
"  anticipating  a  fierce  resistance,"  for  as  he  wrote,  "  the 
insurgents  are  strongly  intrenched,  have  an  immense 
number  of  guns  and  will  contest  every  inch  of  ground." 
Instead  of  doing  so  General  Johnston,  one  of  the 
ablest   Confederate  generals,   had  discerned  that  the 


304         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

place  was  of  no  strategic  importance,  hard  to  defend, 
and  commanding  neither  a  railroad,  a  navigable  stream, 
nor  a  good  turnpike.  Accordingly  he  abandoned  it 
contemptuously  and  retreated  up  the  Shenandoah  Val- 
ley to  a  point  whence  he  could  expeditiously  reenforce 
Beauregard  at  Manassas,  This  it  was  Patterson's  task 
to  prevent  him  from  doing. 

The  keen  eye  of  the  veteran  Scott  in  command  at 
Washington  discerned  clearly  the  importance  of  hold- 
ing Jackson  in  the  valley.  He  had  served  with  Patter- 
son in  Mexico  and  his  dispatches  to  that  commander 
indicate  little  confidence  in  his  capacity.  "  Do  not  let 
the  enemy  amuse  and  delay  you  with  a  small  force  in 
front  while  he  reenforces  the  Junction  with  his  main 
body,"  read  one.  General  Scott's  prescience  was  per- 
fect. This  was  precisely  what  Johnston  did  to  the 
hapless  Patterson.  The  latter  indignantly  replied: 
"  The  enemy  has  stolen  no  march  on  me.  I  have 
kept  him  actively  employed  and  by  threats  and  recon- 
noissances  in  force  have  caused  him  to  be  reenforced." 
Alas  for  Patterson !  At  the  moment  he  wrote  that  dis- 
patch Johnston,  instead  of  being  reenforced,  had  left 
a  slender  line  of  men  to  deceive  the  Union  commander 
and  with  practically  all  his  army  was  marching  through 
Ashby's  Gap  to  the  aid  of  Beauregard. 

McDowell's  advance  upon  Manassas  began  July  16, 
1 86 1.  It  was  the  first  great  military  expedition  with 
which  the  war  authorities  of  the  Union  ever  had  to 
grapple.  To  carry  provisions  and  munitions  of  war, 
750  wagons  were  specially  built  and  the  whole  North 
was  ransacked  for  the  3,000  necessary  horses. 
Soldiers  were  not  employed  as  teamsters  and  1,000 
men  had  to  be  found  for  this  service.  In  the  march- 
ing columns  were  29,000  men,  advancing  by  three 
nearly  parallel  roads.  Each  carried  three  days' 
rations. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      305 

"  The  three  following  things,"  said  the  marching 
order,  "will  not  be  pardonable  in  any  commander: 
1  st,  to  come  upon  a  battery  or  breastwork  without  a 
knowledge  of  its  position;  2d,  to  be  surprised;  3d,  to 
fall  back." 

Put  on  their  guard  by  this  order  the  troops  moved 
forward  with  painful  caution.  The  scouts  and  skir- 
mishers, still  strange  to  their  duties,  continually  gave 
false  alarms.  The  troops,  newly  recruited  and  half- 
disciplined,  found  the  march  at  first  a  pleasurable  holi- 
day. "  They  stopped  every  moment  to  pick  black- 
berries or  get  water,"  says  McDowell;  "they  would 
not  keep  in  the  ranks,  order  as  much  as  you  please; 
when  they  came  where  the  water  was  fresh  they  would 
pour  the  old  water  out  of  their  canteens,  and  fill  them 
with  fresh  water ;  they  were  not  used  to  denying  them- 
selves much;  they  were  not  used  to  journeys  on  foot." 

Many  of  the  people  of  Fairfax  Court  House  aban- 
doned their  houses,  and  fled  as  the  troops  approached. 
The  more  lawless  members  of  the  Union  army  saw  in 
this  an  opportunity  for  plunder,  and  some  of  the  un- 
thinking ones  joined  them  out  of  mere  sportiveness. 
Houses  were  plundered,  and  a  few  barns  and  stables 
burned.  At  nightfall  several  soldiers  paraded  the 
streets  clad  in  women's  clothes,  which  they  had  taken 
from  some  of  the  deserted  houses.  One  man  was 
discovered,  by  a  regimental  officer,  attired  in  the  sur- 
plice and  bands  of  an  Episcopal  clergyman.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  prayer-book,  from  which,  with  great 
solemnity,  he  was  reading  a  funeral  service  for  the 
"  President  of  the  Southern  Confederacy." 

After  a  turbulent  night,  during  which  the  soldiers 
surrendered  the  rest  they  needed  to  their  desire  for  a 
frolic,  the  reveille  sounded,  and  the  troops  were  soon 
again  on  the  march.  By  nine  o'clock  they  had  reached 
Centreville,  where  they  were  halted,  and  the  comman- 


306         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

ders  began  their  plans  for  the  battle  they  knew  was  im- 
pending. 

Beauregard's  army  of  some  twenty  thousand  men 
was  posted  behind  a  small  stream  with  steep  banks 
called  Bull  Run.     From  it  the  battle  took  its  name  in 
Northern  chronicles;  the  Southern  records  always  re- 
fer to  it  as  the  battle  of  Manassas.     The  stream  had 
seven  fords  and  one  bridge,  all  defended  by  earthworks 
and  the  Confederate  line  extended  along  its  bank  for 
eight  miles.     A  survey  of  this  line  convinced  McDowell 
that  an  attack  on  the  front  would  be  futile  and  he 
determined  to  march  around  the  enemy's  flank.     By 
way  of  testing  out  Beauregard's  strength,  he  sent  Gen- 
eral Tyler  with  two  regiments  of  cavalry  and  two  of 
infantry  to  reconnoitre  in  the  neighborhood  of  Black- 
burn's Ford.     Tyler  was  ordered  not  to  bring  on  a 
battle,  but  carried  away  at  the  sight  of  a  tempting  tar- 
get, he  swung  two  field  guns  into  position  and  opened 
fire  on  the  Confederate  camp  which  with  all  its  activity 
of  parking  artillery  and  marching  troops  lay  spread 
out  before  him,  all  unconscious  of  his  proximity.     His 
first  shell  showed  the  worth  of  unpractised  artillerists. 
It  flew  a  hundred  feet  above  the  target  aimed  at  and 
fell  more  than  two  miles  beyond.     But  by  the  merest 
accident  it  landed  in  the  fireplace  of  Beauregard's  head- 
quarters and  blew  his  dinner  to  pieces.     This  effrontery 
could  not  be  overlooked.     The  Confederate  batteries 
returned  the  fire  with  equal  spirit  and  no  better  marks- 
manship.    Tyler  thought  he  might  send  out  a  line  of 
skirmishers.     Then    the    Confederates    thought    they 
would  try  an  assault  on  his  battery.     Before  long  both 
sides  were  hotly  engaged  when  Tyler,  remembering  he 
had  been  ordered  not  to  fight,  withdrew  his  troops. 
By  this  time  it  was  nightfall  and  both  armies  went  into 
bivouac,  the  Confederates  exultantly  claiming  that  they 
had  won  the  first  skirmish.  The  next  day,  the  19th  and 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       307 

Saturday,  the  20th,  were  passed  idly  by  both  armies. 
McDowell  could  not  attack  for  his  provision  and  muni- 
tion wagons  had  not  come  up.  The  delay  cost  him 
dear.  The  time  of  his  troops  was  beginning  to 
expire  and  Saturday  afternoon  one  regiment  and  one 
battery  whose  three  months'  term  was  ended  turned  and 
marched  back  to  Washington;  "marching  from  the 
field  to  the  sound  of  the  enemy's  cannon,"  as  an  officer 
bitterly  remarked. 

Beauregard  was  quite  content  with  the  delay.  He 
had  telegraphed  to  Richmond,  and  thence  the  order  had 
been  flashed  along  the  wires  to  Johnston,  in  the  Shenan- 
doah Valley,  to  make  all  haste  to  join  the  Confederate 
host  at  Manassas.  McDowell,  not  a  whit  behind  in 
forethought,  had  telegraphed  to  Washington,  and  the 
order  had  been  sent  to  Patterson:  "  Hold  Johnston  in 
the  valley.  Do  not  let  him  steal  a  march  on  you."  But 
Patterson  had  proved  wanting  in  diligence,  and 
that  very  night  a  silent  column  of  nine  thousand 
Confederate  soldiers  stole  away  from  the  camp 
in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  and  began  a  forced 
march  for  the  nearest  railway  station.  On  the 
way  they  met  an  officer  galloping  madly  down  the 
road.  Reining  in  his  smoking  steed,  he  asked 
anxiously  for  Johnston,  and  handed  him  a  brief  note. 
"  If  you  wish  to  help  me,  now  is  the  time.  Beaure- 
gard," was  all  it  said,  but  it  spurred  the  weary  soldiers 
to  a  quicker  pace.  The  officer  who  had  brought  the 
note  killed  his  horse  in  his  fierce  ride  from  Ashby's 
Gap.  There  was  no  halting  by  the  way-side,  no  pick- 
ing blackberries  for  these  men.  The  fate  of  a  battle 
depended  on  their  promptitude. 

Saturday  night,  when  McDowell  thought  all  was 
well  in  the  valley,  Johnston  sat  with  Beauregard  in  a 
farm-house  back  of  the  Confederate  lines  planning  the 
battle  they  knew  would  be   fought  on  the  morrow. 


308         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

McDowell  planned  to  turn  their  left  flank  at  Sudley's 
Ford,  but  the  two  Confederate  generals,  believing 
themselves  at  least  equal  to  the  Federals  had  deter- 
mined to  give  up  the  advantage  of  awaiting  the  attack 
behind  intrenchments  and  themselves  attack  the  Union 
base  at  Centreville.  However,  McDowell  moved  first. 

Sunday  morning  dawns.  The  Federals  have  been 
marching  toward  Sudley  Ford  since  two  at  night.  The 
narrow  road  by  which  their  route  lay  is  choked  with 
weary  men,  and  straining  horses  dragging  field  pieces. 
Delay  follows  delay.  The  ford  should  have  been 
crossed  by  daybreak;  it  is  nine  o'clock  before  the  head 
of  the  column  reaches  it.  Then  all  throw  themselves 
upon  the  ground  to  rest  and  eat  a  meagre  breakfast. 
In  the  meantime  a  man  living  in  a  mill  by  the  side  of 
the  road  has  galloped  ahead  to  warn  the  Confederates 
that  the  Yankees  are  coming  down  upon  them,  by  way 
of  Sudley's  Ford. 

Let  us  look  at  the  field  on  which  the  battle  is  to  be 
fought,  and  the  positions  held  by  the  troops  of  either 
side  on  that  eventful  Sunday  morning.  Bull  Run  flows 
in  a  crooked  channel,  from  the  northwest  to  the  south- 
east. The  Confederate  troops  were  on  its  westerly 
side,  facing  east.  Evans's  brigade  held  the  extreme  left 
flank  at  the  stone  bridge,  some  half  a  mile  below  Sud- 
ley's Ford.  Below  Evans  was  Cocke,  then  Bonham, 
then  Longstreet,  then  Jones,  and  finally,  on  the  extreme 
right  flank  eight  miles  from  Evans,  was  Ewell.  Each 
of  these  divisions  was  stationed  at  such  a  point  as  to 
hold  a  ford.  In  the  rear  were  the  reserves — Bee 
Early,  Holmes,  and  Jackson.  The  latter  had  just 
come  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  and  we  shall  see 
what  his  presence  on  the  Bull  Run  battle  field  meant 
for  the  Confederates. 

If  we  choose  the  hour  of  half-past  six  in  the  morning 
we  find  the  Confederate  troops  posted  as  above,  while 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       309 

the  Federals  are  advancing  by  three  roads.  Straight 
down  the  turnpike  from  Centreville  come  the  troops 
of  Tyler,  with  drums  beating  and  colors  flying.  Rich- 
ardson's division  marches  down  to  make  a  demonstra- 
tion at  Blackburn's  Ford,  the  scene  of  the  skirmish  of 
two  days  before.  All  kinds  of  uniforms  are  visible 
in  the  ranks.  The  dark  blue  of  the  small  body  of 
regulars,  the  brilliant  scarlet  trousers  and  fezzes  of  the 
Zouaves,  the  light  gray  of  some  of  the  city  militia  com- 
panies, combine  to  make  up  a  brilliant  pageant  on  the 
lonely  country  roads  on  the  quiet  Sunday  morning. 

Ayres's  battery  of  rifled  guns  precedes  Tyler's  ad- 
vance. Swinging  into  position  at  a  favorable  point 
on  the  turnpike,  it  opens  fire  on  Evans's  troops,  who 
guard  the  stone  bridge.  It  is  the  first  gun  of  the  great 
battle.  The  second  shot  cuts  through  the  tent  of 
Beauregard's  chief  signal  officer.  Soon  the  whole  bat- 
tery of  rifled  cannon  is  in  full  play.  The  Confederates 
remain  dumb,  having  no  artillery  of  sufficient  range  to 
reply. 

McDowell's  whole  plan  of  battle  rested  on  the  sup- 
position that  Tyler  would  show  so  much  activity  as 
to  lead  the  enemy  to  believe  that  the  main  assault  was 
to  be  made  by  the  stone  bridge.  But  in  this  Tyler 
signally  failed.  After  maintaining  an  almost  ineffec- 
tive cannonade  for  some  time,  he  sent  forward  a  line  of 
skirmishers,  who  engaged  the  Confederate  skirmishers 
in  the  woods  on  the  northern  bank  of  Bull  Run.  More 
than  this  he  did  nothing. 

Evans,  meanwhile,  saw  rising  high  above  the  tree- 
tops  beyond  Bull  Run  a  dense  cloud  of  dust, — that 
telltale  signal  which  every  army  marching  in  the  sum- 
mer-time gives  of  its  movements.  This  first  led  him  to 
believe  that  the  skirmish  in  his  front  was  but  a  feint, 
intended  to  draw  his  attention  away  from  some  more 
serious  assault  upon  him  from  some  other  quarter. 


310         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

While  speculating  upon  this,  he  saw  a  horseman,  hat- 
less  and  coatless,  corning  galloping  down  upon  him  in 
wild  excitement. 

u  General,  the  Yankees  are  coming  that  way,"  shouts 
the  messenger.  "  They  are  crossing  Bull  Run  at  Sud~ 
ley's  Ford  by  thousands." 

Evans  here  shows  his  soldierly  qualities.  Though 
his  orders  had  been  only  to  hold  the  stone  bridge 
against  all  comers,  he  quickly  abandons  his  position 
there,  leaving  but  four  companies  to  keep  up  the  petty 
skirmish  with  Tyler's  troops.  Marching  down  the 
turnpike  on  the  double-quick,  he  chose  a  position  on  a 
slight  ridge,  just  inside  the  bend  of  Young's  Branch, 
a  little  stream  emptying  into  Bull  Run.  With  eight 
hundred  men  he  has  to  check  the  advance  of  an  army; 
but  he  forms  his  line  boldly,  and  sends  a  courier  off  to 
the  rear  for  aid.  Soon  a  line  of  skirmishers  appears, 
emerging  from  the  woods.  A  scattering  fire  of  mus- 
ketry begins,  and  here  and  there  men  begin  to  fall  to 
the  earth.  Both  sides  are  still  ignorant  of  war,  and 
the  Federals  suffer  seriously  for  their  inexperience. 
With  a  rapid,  steady  advance,  they  could  sweep 
Evans's  handful  of  men  away,  and  carry  confusion 
down  the  whole  Confederate  line.  Instead  of  this 
their  assault  drags,  and  the  brigades  of  Bee  and  Bar- 
tow come  to  the  aid  of  Evans,  before  his  position  has 
been  seriously  shaken. 

But  now  the  battle  becomes  general.  The  roar  of 
artillery  and  the  ceaseless  rattle  of  the  musketry  dis- 
may the  untried  soldiery.  The  shrill  notes  of  the 
bugle  and  the  cheering  of  the  Confederates  tell  that 
reinforcements  are  hastening  to  confront  the  Federals, 
whose  advance  now  begins  to  gain  in  spirit.  Despite 
the  reinforcements,  the  Federals  are  still  in  overpower- 
ing numbers,  and  force  the  Confederates  back  from 
point  to  point,  until  their  rout  seems  inevitable.     Fresh 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       311 

troops  come  to  aid  the  blue-coats.  Heintzelman's  bri- 
gade comes  up  on  the  right,  and  Sherman,  with  a 
detachment  of  Tyler's  troops,  succeeds  in  finding  a 
ford  above  the  stone  bridge,  and  comes  to  the  aid  of 
his  comrades. 

Now  the  Confederates  begin  to  fall  back;  in  orderly 
retreat  at  first,  then  in  seemingly  hopeless  confusion. 
Shouts,  conflicting  commands,  cries  of  pain,  the  shriek 
and  crash  of  shells,  made  up  so  deafening  a  tumult 
that  the  men  could  not  comprehend  the  frantic  efforts 
of  their  officers  to  rally  them.  So,  in  a  panic-stricken, 
surging  mass,  the  troops  of  Bee  and  Evans  flee  across 
the  turnpike  and  out  of  the  valley  of  Young's  Branch. 
On  the  crest  of  the  hill  back  of  the  road  is  a  brigade  of 
troops  that  had  come  but  a  few  hours  before  from  the 
Shenandoah  Valley.  Five  regiments  and  two  batteries 
are  there,  unscarred  by  the  conflict,  and  in  command  of 
a  man  then  almost  unknown,  but  destined  to  win,  per- 
haps, the  proudest  laurels  worn  by  any  Southern  soldier 
of  the  Civil  War.  Jackson  saw  the  rout  before  him, 
and  straightway  formed  his  line  of  battle  on  the  hill, 
extending  from  the  Robinson  house  to  the  Henry  house. 

Seeing  Jackson  standing  calm  and  stern  before  his 
troops,  Bee  galloped  up  to  him,  and  in  a  tone  of  agony, 
cried  : 

"  General,  see !     They  are  beating  us  back." 

11  Very  well,  sir.  We  will  give  them  the  bayonet," 
was  the  cool  response  of  the  other. 

His  words  and  manner  infused  new  life  and  hope  in 
Bee's  mind.  Dashing  back  to  his  troops,  he  shouted, 
with  fierce  gestures: 

"  See !  See !  There  stands  Jackson,  like  a  stone-wall." 

The  men  look  where  he  points.  The  sight  of  that 
immovable  line  of  disciplined  soldiers  and  the  calmly 
self-reliant  manner  of  the  great  leader  calms  them  a 
little.  ,  Just  at  this  juncture,  with  a  clatter  of  hoofs, 


312         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Beauregard  and  Johnston  come  galloping  to  the  scene 
of  battle.     They  try  to  rally  the  tro'ops. 

"  Carry  the  standards  forward  forty  yards,"  com- 
mands Beauregard.  It  is  done.  The  color  sergeant 
and  the  color  guard  of  each  regiment  stand  boldly  out 
on  the  field  of  battle  amid  the  storm  of  lead.  "  Rally 
upon  the  colors !  "  is  the  cry  then,  all  along  the  line, 
and  soon  the  shattered  ranks  began  to  assume  some 
semblance  of  order.  In  the  meantime  Jackson's  line 
had  advanced  somewhat,  and  the  troops  of  Wade 
Hampton  coming  to  his  aid,  the  advance  of  the  Federal 
columns  is  checked.  Beauregard  is  now  on  the  field. 
As  he  galloped  up  he  had  ordered  all  the  troops  posted 
along  the  bank  of  Bull  Run  to  hasten  towards  the 
firing.  Johnston  has  gone  back  to  hasten  them  for- 
ward, and  the  reinforcements  begin  to  pour  in.  They 
form,  under  cover  of  the  woods,  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill  back  of  the  Henry  and  Robinson  houses.  It  is  a 
position  of  great  strength.  Jackson's  brigade  lies  flat 
on  the  ground,  to  avoid  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  Their 
general,  disdaining  concealment,  rides  slowly  up  and 
down  the  line.  "Steady,  boys;  steady!  All's  well," 
he  says.  Out  in  front  are  the  Confederate  batteries 
making  deadly  play  upon  the  Union  lines,  seen  forming 
in  the  distance,  and  suffering  terribly  from  the  rapid 
and  well-directed  fire  of  Griffin's  and  Ricketts's  bat- 
teries. Beauregard  rides  down  the  line.  "  Colonel 
Walton,  do  you  see  the  enemy?  "  says  he  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  Washington  Artillery. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  hold  this  position,  and  the  day  is  ours." 

As  he  turns  to  ride  away,  a  shell  bursts  beneath  his 
horse,  tearing  the  animal  to  pieces,  and  cutting  off  a 
piece  of  the  general's  boot  heel. 

But  now  McDowell  has  re-formed  his  regiments  and 
is  about  to  advance.     All  day  long  the  advantage  of 


Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y 

THE    BRIDGE   AT   PORANAQUE 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       313 

numbers  and  position  has  been  his.  Now  the  enemy- 
is  his  equal  in  numbers,  and  is  strongly  posted  at  the 
top  of  a  hill  up  which  he  will  have  to  charge.  Noth- 
ing daunted,  he  prepares  for  the  assault.  His  first 
move  brings  disaster.  Ricketts's  and  Griffin's  batteries, 
stationed  near  the  Dogan  house,  are  ordered  to  move 
across  the  valley  to  a  point  near  the  Henry  house. 
Ricketts  and  Griffin  are  officers  of  the  regular  army. 
They  have  schooled  themselves  to  obey  orders;  but 
when  they  learn  that  they  are  to  be  supported  only  by 
two  untrained  regiments  they  feel  that  a  mistake  has 
been  made.  But,  without  protest,  they  move  to  the 
post  assigned  them,  and  open  fire  upon  the  enemy,  who 
returns  it  with  equal  spirit.  Eleven  Union  guns  are 
now  engaged  with  thirteen  Confederate  guns;  but  the 
latter  are  under  cover  and  supported  by  thousands  of 
infantrymen.  For  a  time  the  exchange  of  shots  con- 
tinues; but  soon  the  Confederates  grow  bolder,  and 
sally  out  from  the  woods  in  quick,  but  ineffectual 
charges  upon  the  Union  guns.  Ricketts's  battery  is 
nearest,  and  against  him  the  assaults  are  directed;  but 
with  well-directed  volleys  of  grape  and  canister  he 
holds  his  foes  at  bay. 

Griffin  is  stationed  on  Ricketts's  right,  and  is  ably 
sustaining  his  share  in  the  conflict.  Suddenly  he  sees  a 
regiment  emerge  from  the  woods  on  the  Confederates' 
left  and  advance  boldly  toward  him.  Swinging  his 
guns  around,  he  trains  them  upon  the  new-comers. 
But  they  advance  with  such  deliberation,  with  no  cheer- 
ing or  firing,  that  for  a  moment  he  fancies  they  may  be 
Union  reinforcements.  At  this  moment  Major  Barry, 
chief  of  the  Union  Artillery,  gallops  up. 

"  Captain,"  he  shouts,  "  don't  fire  on  those  troops; 
they  are  your  supports." 

"They  are  Confederates,"  cries  Griffin;  "I  know 
they  are;  they  are  part  of  the  enemy's  forces." 


3i4         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

44  No,  no ;  they  are  your  supports." 

Then  Griffin  wheels  his  guns  around  again  and  the 
double  charges  of  grape  and  canister  that  he  had  pre- 
pared for  the  unknown  regiment  are  sent  whistling  into 
the  woods  in  which  the  main  body  of  the  Confederate 
troops  is  hidden.  Meanwhile  the  doubtful  regiment 
has  moved  up  nearer,  swung  into  a  long  line  facing 
Ricketts  and  Griffin,  halts,  and  with  all  deliberation 
levels  its  muskets  and  fires  a  volley  at  point-blank  range 
into  the  very  faces  of  the  Union  cannoneers.  It  is  a 
murderous  fire.  Men  and  horses  fall  to  the  ground 
before  the  storm  of  leaden  hail.  Horses  are  stung  by 
the  flying  bullets  and  maddened  by  the  crash  of  the 
musketry,  and  gallop  away,  dragging  caissons  and  lim- 
bers after  them.  The  Zouaves,  stationed  to  support 
the  batteries,  are  thrown  into  confusion.  Their  officers 
urge  them  forward  but  they  hesitate.  While  they 
waver,  the  Confederates  advance  boldly,  pouring  in 
volleys.  A  sudden  panic  seizes  upon  the  Zouaves. 
They  break,  they  fly  in  terror,  crying  that  all  is  lost. 
Some  of  them  pluck  up  their  courage  and  join  other 
commands;  but,  as  a  body,  the  Zouaves  are  not  seen 
on  the  field  of  Bull  Run  again. 

This  disaster  is  directly  traceable  to  Patterson,  far 
off  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  for  the  Confederate 
troops  that  fired  the  fatal  volley  were  the  troops  of 
Kirby  Smith,  and  had  just  reached  the  field  of  battle. 
In  the  cars  they  heard  the  noise  of  battle,  and,  stopping 
the  train,  they  had  run  down  the  turnpike  and  across 
the  fields  towards  the  sound  of  the  cannonading.  With- 
out reporting  to  Beauregard,  or  asking  for  orders,  they 
sought  the  field  of  battle  and  arrived  in  time  to  deal  the 
decisive  blow. 

There  is  no  incident  in  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  that 
can  be  definitely  termed  the  moment  of  defeat.  No 
successful  charge  by  the  Confederates,  nor  great  dis- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       315 

aster  to  the  Federals,  was  instantly  followed  by  the 
rout  of  the  latter.  But  toward  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  an  hour  or  more  after  the  disaster  to 
Ricketts  and  Griffin,  the  Union  army  began  to  go  to 
pieces.  Men  left  the  ranks  and  went  coolly  to  the 
rear.  Half-disciplined  regiments  charged  magnifi- 
cently up  the  hill,  but  when  driven  back  thought  their 
whole  duty  done  and  quietly  withdrew.  "At  four 
o'clock,"  says  a  Union  officer,  "there  were  more  than 
twelve  thousand  volunteers  on  the  battle  field  of  Bull 
Run  who  had  entirely  lost  their  regimental  organiza- 
tion. They  could  no  longer  be  handled  as  troops,  for 
the  officers  and  men  were  not  together.  Men  and 
officers  mingled  together  promiscuously;  and  it  is 
worthy  of  remark  that  this  disorganization  did  not 
result  from  defeat  or  fear." 

Crowds  of  civilians,  members  of  Congress,  govern- 
ment officials,  newspaper  correspondents,  and  curiosity- 
seekers  had  followed  the  army  from  Washington,  eager 
to  witness  the  battle.  Few  of  these  had  ventured  so 
far  as  the  battle  field,  but  thousands  of  them  were  in 
the  fields  and  along  the  road  leading  to  the  stone  bridge. 
The  road  was  choked  up  with  pleasure-carriages  and 
with  army-wagons.  As  the  stragglers  began  swarming 
across  the  fords  of  Bull  Run,  dirty,  grimed  with 
powder,  their  faces  telling  of  disaster,  a  feeling  of 
vague  alarm  spread  amongst  the  crowd  of  sight-seers. 
The  contagion  spread.  Congressmen  in  carriages 
called  to  their  drivers  to  whip  up  their  horses  and 
hasten  back  to  Washington.  Teamsters  cut  loose  their 
horses  from  the  wagons  and  galloped  away.  Even 
ambulances,  laden  with  Union  wounded,  were  thus 
abandoned  and  left  standing  in  the  road.  Soldiers 
cast  away  their  muskets,  photographers  their  cameras. 

"  We  have  won  a  great  and  glorious  victory,"  tele- 
graphed Jefferson  Davis,  as  he  surveyed  the  field  after 


3i6         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  battle.  This  was  true,  but  it  would  have  been  more 
to  the  purpose  if,  instead  of  exulting,  the  President 
of  the  Confederacy  had  ordered  an  instant  advance  on 
Washington.  "  Give  me  5,000  fresh  men  and  I 
will  be  in  Washington  to-morrow  morning,"  cried 
General  Jackson  to  Davis,  but  the  appeal  went  un- 
heeded. The  Federal  loss  in  the  battle  was  killed,  460; 
wounded,  1,124;  captured,  1,312;  total,  2,896.  The 
Confederate  loss  was  killed,  387;  wounded,  1,582; 
captured  or  missing,  13;  total,  1,982.  Two  Confed- 
erate generals,  Bartow  and  Bee,  who  conferred  the 
deathless  title  of  "  Stonewall  "  on  Jackson  were  killed. 
The  state  of  panic  in  Washington  when  the  defeated 
soldiers  came  trooping  back  from  the  battleground 
almost  baffles  the  imagination.  One  who  saw  it,  the 
poet  Walt  Whitman,  gifted  with  a  vivid  descriptive 
prose  style  has  described  it  in  an  article,  a  part  of  which 
may  well  close  this  chapter: 


The  defeated  troops  commenced  pouring  into  Washington,  over 
the  Long  Bridge,  at  daylight  on  Monday,  226. — day  drizzling  all 
through  with  rain.  The  Saturday  and  Sunday  of  the  battle  (20th, 
21st)  had  been  parched  and  hot  to  an  extreme;  the  dust,  the  grime 
and  smoke,  in  layers,  sweated  in,  followed  by  other  layers  again 
sweated  in,  absorbed  by  those  excited  souls;  their  clothes  all 
saturated  with  the  clay-powder  rilling  the  air,  stirred  up  everywhere 
on  the  dry  roads  and  trodden  fields  by  the  regiments,  swarming 
wagons,  artillery,  etc., — all  the  men  with  this  coating  of  murk  and 
sweat  and  rain,  now  recoiling  back,  pouring  over  the  Long  Bridge, — 
a  horrible  march  of  twenty  miles, — returning  to  Washington  baffled, 
humiliated,  panic-struck.  Where  are  the  vaunts  and  the  proud 
boasts  with  which  you  went  forth?  Where  are  your  banners,  and 
your  bands  of  music,  and  your  ropes  to  bring  back  your  prisoners? 
Well,  there  isn't  a  band  playing,  and  there  isn't  a  flag  but  clings 
ashamed  and  lank  to  its  staff. 

The  sun  rises,  but  shines  not.  The  men  appear,  at  first  sparsely 
and  shame-faced  enough,  then  thicker,  in  the  streets  of  Washing- 
ton,— appear  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  on  the  steps  and  base- 
ment entrances.  They  come  along  in  disorderly  mobs;  some  in 
squads,  stragglers,  companies.  Occasionally,  a  rare  regiment,  in 
perfect  order,  with  its  officers  (some  gaps — dead,  the  true  braves) 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      317 

marching  in  silence,  with  lowering  faces,  stern,  weary  to  sinking, 
all  black  and  dirty,  but  every  man  with  his  musket,  and  stepping 
alive;  but  these  are  the  exceptions.  Sidewalks  of  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  Fourteenth  Street,  etc.,  crowded,  jammed  with  citizens, 
darkies,  clerks,  everybody,  lookers-on;  women  in  the  windows, 
curious  expressions  upon  faces  as  those  swarms  of  dirt-covered, 
returned  soldiers  there  (Will  they  never  end?)  move  by;  but  noth- 
ing said,  no  comments  (half  our  lookers-on  *  secesh  "  of  the  most 
venomous  kind, — they  say  nothing,  but  the  devil  snickers  in  their 
faces).  During  the  forenoon  Washington  gets  all  over  motley  with 
these  defeated  soldiers, — queer-looking  objects,  strange  eyes  and 
faces,  drenched  (the  steady  rain  drizzles  on  all  day),  and  fearfully 
worn,  hungry,  haggard,  blistered  in  the  feet.  Good  people  (but  not 
over-many  of  them  either)  hurry  up  something  for  their  grub. 
They  put  wash-kettles  on  the  fire  for  soup,  for  coffee.  They  set 
tables  on  the  sidewalks;  wagon-loads  of  bread  are  purchased, 
swiftly  cut  in  stout  chunks.  Here  are  two  ladies,  beautiful,  the 
first  in  the  city  for  culture  and  charm, — they  stand  with  store  of 
eating  and  drink  at  an  improvised  table  of  rough  plank,  and  give 
food,  and  have  the  store  replenished  from  their  house  every  half- 
hour  all  that  day;  and  there  in  the  rain  they  stand,  active,  silent, 
white-haired,  and  give  food,  though  the  tears  stream  down  their 
cheeks,  almost  without  intermission,  the  whole  time.  Amid  the 
deep  excitement,  crowds,  and  motion,  and  desperate  eagerness,  it 
seems  strange  to  see  many,  very  many,  of  the  soldiers  sleeping — in 
the  midst  of  all,  sleeping  sound.  They  drop  down  anywhere,  on 
the  steps  of  houses,  up  close  by  the  basements  or  fences,  on  the 
sidewalk,  aside  on  some  vacant  lot,  and  deeply  sleep.  A  poor  seven- 
teen or  eighteen-year-old  boy  lies  there,  on  the  stoop  of  a  grand 
house;  he  sleeps  so  calmly,  so  profoundly.  Some  clutch  their  mus- 
kets firmly  even  in  sleep.  Some  in  squads;  comrades,  brothers, 
close  together — and  on  them,  as  they  lay,  sulkily  drips  the  rain. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  War  in  the  West— Lyon's  Fight  for  Missouri  and  His  Death- 
Grant  First  Appears— His  Capture  of  Forts  Henry  and  Donel- 
son — Encouragement  to  the  Union  Cause. 

Following  upon  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  came  three 
months  of  comparative  quiet  in  the  main  field  of  battle. 
The  wrecked  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  to  be  patched 
up;  the  morale  of  the  Northern  soldiers  reestablished; 
and  the  too  eager  press  and  people  of  the  North  shown 
by  precept  following  upon  the  example  of  disaster  that 
the  way  to  Richmond  was  not  so  open  as  they  thought. 
But  recruiting  was  not  checked  by  the  defeat,  which 
indeed  seemed  rather  to  arouse  the  fighting  spirit  of 
the  North.  A  camp  preacher  in  Illinois  seemed  to 
express  the  sentiment  of  his  neighbors  when  he  read 
the  news  of  the  battle  from  his  rude  pulpit  and  ended 
with  the  declaration,  "  Brethren,  it  is  time  to  adjourn 
this  meeting  and  go  home  and  drill." 

To  succeed  General  McDowell  in  command  of  the 
army  in  Virginia  was  chosen  General  George  B.  Mc- 
Clellan,  a  West  Pointer,  an  engineer  with  a  genius  for 
organization,  who  had  attracted  attention  by  two  not 
very  important  victories  won  in  West  Virginia  in  the 
course  of  holding  that  state  for  the  Union.  ^  Eight 
months  were  passed  in  the  work  of  reorganization  and 
building  up  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  during  which 
period  only  unimportant  battles  were  fought  in  the 
eastern  theatre  of  war. 

It  was  during  this  period,  however,  that  General 
Lyon  was  most  active  in  his  fight  for  Missouri.  Early 
in  the  trouble  he  had  effectively  disarmed  the  Conf ed- 

318 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      319 

erates  of  the  state  by  seizing  the  arsenal  and  raiding 
their  only  armed  camp.  But  the  sentiment  of  the  state 
was  strongly  secession,  and  if  the  movement  lacked 
arms  it  did  not  lack  men.  In  response  to  a  call  sent 
out  by  General  S.  G.  Price  seven  or  eight  thousand 
men  gathered  at  Cowskin  Prairie  in  the  southwestern 
part  of  the  state.  They  had  no  regular  arms.  Some 
had  hunting  rifles,  others  shot-guns.  Several  thousand 
had  no  guns  whatsoever.  There  were  seven  cannon 
but  no  cartridges.  "  My  first  cartridge  resembled  a 
turnip  rather  than  the  trim  cylinders  from  Federal 
arsenals  and  would  not  take  a  gun  on  any  terms," 
wrote  an  artillery  officer  who  undertook  to  teach  the 
men  to  make  cartridges  from  homely  materials.  There 
were  no  uniforms.  A  bit  of  bright  calico  knotted  about 
the  arm  was  the  common  badge  of  rank.  Price's  adju- 
tant-general described  the  troops  thus : 

The  staff  was  composed  chiefly  of  country  lawyers,  who  took 
the  ways  of  the  court-room  with  them  into  the  field.  Colonels  could 
not  drill  their  regiments,  nor  captains  their  companies ;  a  drum  and 
a  fife — the  only  ones  in  the  entire  command — sounded  all  the  calls, 
and  companies  were  paraded  by  the  sergeants  calling  out,  "  Oh,  yes ! 
Oh,  yes!  all  you  who  belong  to  Captain  Brown's  company  fall  in 
here."  Officers  and  men  messed  together,  and  all  approached  Mc- 
Bride  without  a  salute,  lounged  around  his  quarters,  listened  to  all 
that  was  said,  and  when  they  spoke  to  him  called  him  "Jedge." 
Their  only  arms  were  the  rifles  with  which  they  hunted  the  squirrels 
and  other  small  game  that  abounded  in  their  woods ;  but  these  they 
knew  how  to  use.  A  powder-horn,  a  cap-pouch,  "  a  string  of 
patchin',"  and  a  hunter's  knife  completed  their  equipment.  I  doubt 
whether  among  them  all  was  a  man  who  had  seen  a  piece  of 
artillery. 

General  Lyon  and  General  Franz  Sigel,  of  the  Fed- 
eral army,  were  at  Springfield,  Missouri,  with  about  five 
thousand  men,  but  better  armed  and  equipped  than  the 
Confederates.  Price  by  joining  his  force  with  that  of 
General  Ben  McCulloch  had  brought  his  available 
force  up  nearly  to  ten  thousand  men.     It  was  Lyon's 


320         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

tactics,  obviously,  to  attack  this  force  before  it  could 
be  fully  armed,  effectively  drilled,  and  made  into  an 
efficient  army.  The  Confederates,  on  their  part,  know- 
ing that  they  were  ill-armed  and  that  their  one  point 
of  superiority  was  in  numbers,  determined  to  attack 
Lyon  before  he  could  be  reenforced.  By  a  curious 
coincidence,  the  foes  selected  the  same  day,  August  9, 
.  for  their  attacks — but  Lyon  attacked  at  daybreak  just 
as  the  Confederates  were  breakfasting  preparatory  to 
taking  the  field  themselves. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  At  first  the  success  of 
the  Union  forces  seemed  assured,  but  a  large  Confed- 
erate force  by  a  stratagem  succeeded  in  trapping  Sigel 
into  the  belief  that  they  were  part  of  Lyon's  force, 
and  getting  into  a  commanding  position,  fairly  blew  his 
line  to  pieces.  Sigel  with  300  men  fled,  leaving  900 
men  and  5  cannon  behind.  Lyon's  plan  of  battle 
had  been  to  divide  his  forces — always  a  dangerous  ex- 
pedient— sending  Sigel  to  take  the  Confederates  in  the 
rear.  He  heard  the  distant  sound  of  conflict  and  thus 
knew  Sigel  was  engaged,  but  had  no  knowledge  of 
the  disaster  that  had  befallen  him.  He  himself  fought 
bravely,  though  wounded  early  in  the  battle.  The 
Federals,  spurred  on  by  his  courage,  were  holding  their 
own  against  a  superior  force  when  a  bullet  struck  him 
dead.  The  fall  of  a  commander  always  disheartens 
his  troops,  and  the  Union  soldiers  now  looked  with 
apprehension  upon  the  Confederates  who  had  with- 
drawn to  prepare  for  another  charge.  Just  then  the 
trick  that  had  been  played  upon  Sigel  was  repeated 
upon  Lyon's  men.  A  Confederate  force  bearing  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  approached  unopposed,  for  all  sup- 
posed them  part  of  Sigel's  command.  At  the  critical 
moment,  however,  the  national  flag  was  thrown  down 
and  the  new  troops  charged  the  Union  lines,  while  a 
battery  made  up  of  guns  taken  from  Sigel  swung  into 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       321 

action.  The  shock  was  too  much  for  the  Union  troops. 
Though  they  repelled  that  charge  they  then  abandoned 
the  field  and  retreated  to  Springfield.  Their  loss  had 
been  less  than  the  Confederates,  but  their  force  was 
little  more  than  half  as  great.  The  official  figures 
of  losses  are:  For  the  Federals,  223  killed,  721 
wounded,  and  291  missing;  for  the  Confederates,  265 
killed,  800  wounded,  and  30  missing.  But  the  death 
of  General  Lyon  was  the  greatest  loss  of  all.  The 
vigor  with  which  he  had  acted  at  the  very  first  mutter- 
ing of  civil  war  was  the  one  force  that  saved  Missouri 
to  the  Union. 

One  other  affair  in  Missouri  during  this  year  is  of 
interest  as  introducing  to  the  active  prosecution  of  the 
war  the  officer  who  was  destined  to  become  the  chief 
general  on  the  Union  side. 

The  Confederates  had  a  strong  military  post  at 
Columbus,  Kentucky,  on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi, 
under  command  of  General  Polk,  who  had  been  a 
Bishop  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  General  Fremont, 
who  was  in  command  of  Missouri,  was  very  apprehen- 
sive lest  they  send  over  troops  to  reenforce  General 
Price.  Accordingly  he  ordered  Brigadier-General  U. 
S.  Grant,  who  was  at  Cairo,  Illinois,  to  make  some  sort 
of  an  attack  which  would  keep  the  Confederates  busy. 
To  attack  Columbus  would  have  been  folly  for  there 
were  10,000  men  there  in  a  well-fortified  camp. 
But  on  the  Missouri  side,  at  Belmont,  a  miserable 
little  hamlet,  there  was  a  small  detachment  in  an 
unfortified  camp,  and  putting  about  3,000  men  and 
two  guns  on  river  steamboats  Grant  started  for 
that  point.  When  he  landed  three  miles  above  the 
camp  two  armored  gunboats  dropped  down  stream 
and  began  shelling  the  works  at  Columbus  to  keep  the 
enemy  interested  there. 

Four  hours  of  fighting  followed  the  first  collision 


322         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  the  hostile  skirmishers.  Through  the  woods  the 
blue-coats  advanced  slowly,  but  without  serious  check. 
There  was  no  open  country,  and  there  could  be  no 
charges;  but  the  fighting  was  cool  and  deadly.  "I 
never  saw  a  battle  more  hotly  contested,  or  where 
troops  behaved  with  more  gallantry,"  said  Grant,  in 
his  report,  next  day.  Many  were  struck  down  in  the 
woods  by  the  flying  bullets.  Grant's  horse  was  shot 
under  him.  But  the  Union  troops  pressed  on  until  at 
last  the  edge  of  the  clearing  about  the  camp  was  reached. 
Then  the  Confederates  broke  and  fled,  plunging  over 
the  steep  bank  of  the  river,  huddling  together  on  the 
sands  underneath,  panic-stricken,  and  ready  to  surren- 
der at  the    first  summons. 

But  no  demand  for  surrender  was  made.  The 
Union  soldiers,  who  had  fought  like  veterans,  showed 
that  they  were  but  raw  recruits  in  the  moment  of  vic- 
tory. When  they  saw  the  Confederate  camp  deserted 
they  broke  through  the  abatis  by  which  it  was  sur- 
rounded, and  at  once  gave  themselves  up  to  plunder 
and  self-glorification.  The  younger  officers  were  as 
bad  as  the  men.  From  the  backs  of  their  horses  they 
made  speeches  boasting  of  victory,  and  glorifying  the 
Union  cause,  whenever  they  could  muster  a  corporal's 
guard  to  listen.  Meantime  the  privates  were  ransack- 
ing the  tents,  breaking  open  trunks,  and  appropriating 
everything  upon  which  they  could  lay  their  hands. 
One  group  of  men  had  got  hold  of  some  captured 
cannon,  and  were  furiously  cannonading  some  steamers 
lying  at  a  wharf  down  stream,  far  out  of  range.  Up 
stream,  within  cannon-shot,  were  two  steamers  black 
with  armed  soldiery,  coming  over  to  cut  off  the  Union 
retreat.  Galloping  up  to  the  group,  Grant  directed 
them  to  turn  their  guns  upon  the  loaded  steamers; 
but  their  excitement  was  so  great  that  they  paid  not 
the   slightest  heed   to   him.     Thereupon   he   ordered 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      323 

his  staff  officers  to  set  fire  to  the  camp,  which  was 
quickly  done.  The  flames  and  the  shells  from  the 
enemy's  works  across  the  river,  which  now  began  to 
drop  rather  thickly  into  the  camp,  brought  the  de- 
moralized soldiers  to  their  senses.  As  they  looked 
about  them  they  saw  that  the  Confederates  had  re- 
formed their  shattered  ranks,  and  taken  a  position 
between  the  Union  forces  and  the  transports. 

"We  are  surrounded  I  "  was  the  cry.  To  the  un- 
trained soldiers  the  thought  of  being  surrounded  was 
equivalent  to  defeat. 

"  We  cut  our  way  in  here,"  said  General  Grant, 
"  and  can  cut  our  way  out  again." 

Accordingly  the  lines  were  formed.  The  Confed- 
erates gave  way,  and  before  the  reinforcements  from 
Columbus  had  landed,  the  Federals  had  safely  reached 
their  boats. 

Reaching  the  landing-place  Grant  found  his  troops 
all  embarked,  and  the  steamers  in  the  act  of  pushing 
off.  Close  behind  him  came  the  enemy,  their  bullets 
whistling  overhead,  and  their  shouts  ringing  in  his 
ears.  He  was  on  the  crest  of  the  high  bank  of  the 
river,  an  almost  perpendicular  bank  of  clay,  at  the 
foot  of  which  was  a  level  stretch  of  sand,  across  which 
he  must  ride  to  reach  the  edge  of  the  water.  The 
captain  of  the  nearest  boat  which  had  pushed  out  ran 
a  single  plank  ashore,  and  shouted  to  him  to  hasten. 
"  My  horse  seemed  to  take  in  the  situation,"  writes 
Grant,  in  his  "  Memoirs."  u  There  was  no  path  down 
the  bank,  and  everyone  acquainted  with  the  Missis- 
sippi River  knows  that  its  banks  in  a  natural  state  do 
not  vary  at  any  great  angle  from  the  perpendicular. 
My  horse  put  his  fore  feet  over  the  bank  without 
hesitation  or  urging,  and  with  his  hind  feet  well  under 
him  slid  down  the  bank  and  trotted  aboard  the  boat, 
twelve  or  fifteen  feet  away,  over  a  single  gang-plank." 


324         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Though  the  forces  engaged  were  inconsiderable, 
Belmont  was  a  sharp-fought  battle.  The  Union 
armies  lost  in  all  607  men;  of  whom  120  were  killed, 
383  wounded,  and  104  captured  or  missing.  The 
Confederate  loss  amounted  to  641 ;  of  whom  105  were 
killed,  419  wounded,  and  117  missing. 

After  the  battle  of  Belmont  the  commanding  officers 
of  the  hostile  armies,  with  their  staffs,  exchanged  sev- 
eral visits  to  arrange  the  details  of  paroles,  exchange 
of  prisoners,  and  such  matters.  On  one  of  these  visits 
Colonel  Buford,  of  Grant's  staff,  with  several  other 
Union  officers,  was  the  guest  of  General  Polk.  Lunch- 
eon was  served.  The  wine  was  passed  around. 
"  Gentlemen,"  said  Colonel  Buford,  looking  slyly  at  the 
Confederate  officers,  "  let  us  drink  to  George  Wash- 
ington, the  Father  of  his  Country.''  "  And  the  first 
Rebel,"  quickly  added  General  Polk,  and  the  toast 
thus  amended  was  drunk  by  all  in  amity. 

A  little  later,  General  Cheatham,  Polk's  second  in 
command,  and  General  Grant  got  into  a  conversation 
about  horses,  of  which  both  were  very  fond.  For  an 
hour  or  more  they  chatted  amicably.  At  last  the  time 
came  to  part. 

11  Well,  general,"  said  the  Southerner,  "  this  business 
of  fighting  is  a  troublesome  affair.  Let  us  settle  our 
political  differences  by  a  grand  horse-race  over  on  the 
Missouri  shore." 

11  I  wish  we  could,"  responded  Grant;  and,  soldier 
though  he  was,  he  probably  would  have  liked  to  bring 
the  war  to  an  end  then  and  there. 

The  battle  of  Belmont  was  of  but  slight  importance 
save  as  introducing  General  Grant  to  active  military 
operations.  He  was  not  long  in  following  up  the 
introduction.  Kentucky,  which  had  tried  to  be  neutral, 
had  not  long  been  able  to  maintain  that  position.  By 
the  beginning  of  the  year   1862   both   the   Federals 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      325 

and  the  Confederates  were  maintaining  powerful  posts 
within  her  borders.  In  command  of  the  latter  was 
General  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  a  military  commander 
of  the  first  order,  who  had  in  all  about  forty-three 
thousand  men  to  hold  a  line  reaching  from  Columbus 
on  the  Mississippi  to  Cumberland  Gap.  His  force 
was  not  only  inadequate  but  was  ill-armed,  many  of 
his  soldiers  carrying  squirrel  rifles,  shot-guns,  and 
even  flint-locks.  The  Federals  had  a  slight  advantage 
in  numbers  and  a  great  one  in  equipment.  They  had, 
moreover,  a  considerable  fleet  of  gunboats,  some  of 
them  armored,  with  which  to  carry  the  war  by  water 
into  the  enemy's  country.  In  the  west  the  rivers 
south  of  the  Ohio  mainly  run  north  and  south,  thus 
forming  roads  into  the  territory  then  held  by  the  Con- 
federates. In  the  east  they  run  east  and  west  and 
thus  were  obstacles  in  the  path  of  the  Union  armies 
marching  southward.  The  superior  position  of  the 
Union  forces  in  Kentucky  was  somewhat  affected  by 
an  unfortunate  division  in  command.  General  Hal- 
leck,  in  chief  command  in  Missouri,  included  in  his 
department  all  of  Kentucky  west  of  the  Cumberland 
River;  General  Buell,  with  headquarters  at  Louisville, 
commanded  the  rest. 

Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Belmont  General  Grant 
began  urging  upon  Halleck  expeditions  up  the  Cum- 
berland and  Tennessee  rivers  to  capture  Forts  Donel- 
son  and  Henry  that  stood  upon  their  banks.  These 
forts  were  in  the  rear  of  Johnston's  line  of  defence 
and,  if  taken,  would  compel  him  to  abandon  such 
strong  points  as  Bowling  Green  and  Columbus.  Hal- 
leck finally  assenting,  Grant  left  Cairo,  February  2, 
1862,  to  attack  Fort  Henry.  He  had  under  his  com- 
mand seventeen  thousand  men,  but  as  there  were  not 
enough  steamboats  to  carry  all,  half  were  taken  to 
a  point  a  few  miles  below  the  fort  and  landed  while 


326         STORY   OF  OUR  ARMY 

the  boats  went  back  for  the  rest.  With  the  expedition 
were  also  several  iron-clad  gunboats  under  Commodore 
Foote. 

Fort  Henry  was  a  powerful  work  so  placed  as  to 
be  untenable  at  high  water.  How  the  Confederate 
engineers  could  have  so  blundered  in  placing  a  fort 
which  in  all  other  elements  of  technical  design  was 
admirable  is  inexplicable.  At  the  very  time  Grant 
attacked  it  its  flag-staff  stood  in  two  feet  of  water 
and  the  river  was  rising.  Even  before  the  Federal 
expedition  appeared  down  the  river  General  Tilgh- 
man,  in  command  of  the  fort,  had  very  properly  de- 
termined to  abandon  it.  He  sent  the  greater  part 
of  his  command  overland  to  Fort  Donelson,  only 
twelve  miles  away,  leaving  Captain  Taylor  with  fifty- 
four  men  instructed  to  hold  the  fort  against  all  comers 
for  an  hour.  The  little  band  fought  well.  They  had 
only  the  gunboats  to  deal  with  for  Grant's  troops 
never  got  into  this  fight  at  all.  The  shells  from  the 
heavy  naval  guns  searched  out  every  part  of  the  fort, 
piercing  the  breastworks  as  though  they  were  paste- 
board. One  lucky  shot  from  the  fort  pierced  the 
boiler  of  the  M  Essex,"  scalding  many  of  her  men, 
forcing  scores  to  jump  overboard  and  sending  her  out 
of  action. 

But,  though  encouraged  for  the  time  by  the  sight 
of  the  disaster  on  the  u  Essex,"  the  garrison  of  the 
fort  soon  saw  the  futility  of  longer  resistance.  Their 
one  rifled  cannon  had  burst,  striking  down  all  the 
gunners  who  served  it,  and  disabling  the  guns  on  either 
aide.  The  heavy  Columbiad  had  been  accidentally 
spiked  with  its  own  priming-wire.  The  Federal  fire 
had  dismounted  so  many  other  guns  as  to  leave  but 
four  fit  for  use.  Many  of  the  buildings  in  the  fort 
were  on  fire,  the  waters  of  the  river  were  creeping 
higher  and  higher,  threatening  to  drown  the  magazine, 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      327 

and  all  the  time  the  gunboats  stubbornly  breasted  the 
fierce  current  of  the  Tennessee,  and  swept  the  fort 
with  their  screeching,  bursting  shells.  "  It  is  vain  to 
fight  longer,"  said  General  Tilghman,  who  had  re- 
turned to  the  fort  after  having  seen  his  troops  safely 
started  on  the  road  to  Donelson.  "  Our  gunners  are 
disabled — our  guns  dismounted;  we  can't  hold  out  five 
minutes  longer."  Then  the  Stars  and  Bars  of  the 
Confederacy  came  fluttering  down  from  the  flag-staff, 
and  in  a  moment  the  blue-jackets  on  the  gunboats  were 
cheering  lustily  over  their  victory.  It  is  worthy  of 
note,  that  when  a  cutter  was  sent  off  from  the  flag- 
ship to  receive  the  formal  surrender,  the  water  had 
risen  so  high  that  the  boat  pulled  directly  to  the  sally- 
port over  ground  on  which  the  day  before  the  Con- 
federate garrison  had  marched.  Had  the  attack  been 
deferred  two  days,  the  Tennessee  River  would  have 
saved  the  Union  forces  their  trouble  by  drowning 
out  the  garrison. 

The  capture  of  Fort  Henry  was  no  very  extraord- 
inary military  exploit.  General  Grant  did  not  himself 
anticipate  any  considerable  difficulty  in  it,  expecting 
that  the  fleet  would  reduce  the  works  and  only  hoping 
to  use  his  own  forces  to  capture  the  garrison — a  wish 
which  General  Tilghman  frustrated  by  withdrawing 
nearly  all  his  men  before  the  attack  began.  But  the 
victory  stirred  the  riotous  enthusiasm  of  the  entire 
North,  for  it  sounded  greater  than  it  really  was.  It 
was  the  first  Confederate  fort  to  fall  into  Federal 
hands.  It  had  its  effect  on  the  enemy  too,  for  Gen- 
eral Johnston  on  hearing  the  news  abandoned  Bowling 
Green,  sent  twelve  thousand  of  his  troops  to  Fort 
Donelson  and  with  the  rest,  about  fourteen  thousand, 
retreated  into  Tennessee.  Within  a  week  Grant  was 
on  the  way  to  attack  the  second  Confederate  strong- 
hold.    Meantime  the  rains  had  passed  over,  a  bright 


328         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

sunny  day  or  two  had  been  enjoyed  and  the  Northern 
soldiers,  confusing  Tennessee  with  the  tropics,  thought 
they  were  done  with  winter  and  threw  away  overcoats 
and  blankets  by  thousands — a  blunder  they  were 
destined  to  regret  bitterly. 

A  lofty  hill  at  the  head  of  an  abrupt  bend  in  the 
Tennessee  River  had  been  chosen  by  the  Confederates 
as  the  site  of  Fort  Donelson.  The  two  water  bat- 
teries of  the  work  commanded  a  long,  straight  reach 
of  water,  up  which  must  come  any  naval  expedition 
on  hostile  errand  bent.  The  fort  itself  was  an  irregu- 
larly shaped  earthwork,  mounting  heavy  guns,  and 
enclosing  about  one  hundred  acres  of  ground.  Out- 
side of  the  fort  proper  were  redoubts  of  logs,  and 
field-works  for  infantry  and  artillery.  Still  farther 
advanced  were  earthworks  faced  by  a  heavy  abatis, 
reaching  from  Hickman's  Creek,  about  a  mile  below 
the  fort,  to  the  little  town  of  Dover,  two  miles  above 
it.  Within  these  formidable  works  were  nearly  twenty 
thousand  men.  Johnston  had  plainly  foreseen  the 
importance  of  this  post  to  the  Confederacy,  and  had 
hurried  thither  every  man  he  could  spare  from  his 
position  at  Bowling  Green.  "  I  determined/'  he  said, 
11  to  fight  for  Nashville  at  Donelson,  and  to  have  the 
best  part  of  my  army  to  do  it."  But  Johnston's  fatal 
error  was  made  when  he  sent,  to  command  this  fort, 
General  Floyd,  whose  treasonable  actions  when  secre- 
tary of  war  under  Buchanan  had  shown  him  to  be 
destitute  of  that  first  of  all  soldierly  qualities,  honor. 
A  great  commander  has  said:  "  Better  an  army  of 
hares  led  by  a  lion,  than  an  army  of  lions  led  by  a 
hare."  General  Grant  himself  has  placed  on  record 
the  statement  that,  knowing  Floyd's  character,  he  at- 
tempted manoeuvres  that  he  would  have  never  under- 
taken had  Buckner  (third  in  command  at  Fort  Donel- 
son)  been  in  command. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       329 

The  advance  was  made  by  two  parallel  roads,  Gen- 
eral McClernand  commanding  one  division,  General 
Smith  the  other,  both  West  Pointers.  They  reached 
the  picket  lines  of  the  enemy  about  sundown,  and 
bivouacked  without  any  clash.  Indeed,  the  next  day 
Grant  ordered  that  nothing  should  be  done  that  would 
bring  on  a  general  engagement,  but  General  McCler- 
nand was  so  badgered  by  an  apparently  unsupported 
battery  that  in  wrath  he  sent  three  regiments  to  take 
it.  It  turned  out  that  the  battery  was  surrounded 
by  concealed  rifle-pits  and  masked  earthworks.  The 
three  charging  regiments  found  themselves  pitted 
against  five — plus  the  battery  itself.  Badly  cut  up 
they  rallied,  charged  a  second  and  then  a  third  time 
and  gave  up  the  fight.  Many  wounded  were  left  on 
the  field  and  the  dried  leaves  and  grass  taking  fire 
threatened  them  with  an  agonizing  death.  Nobody 
seemed  to  think  of  a  flag  of  truce  for  their  removal, 
but  the  Confederates  clambered  over  their  breast- 
works and  carried  many  back  to  safety. 

Grant  did  not  expect  to  fight  a  pitched  engagement. 
His  plan  was  to  hem  in  the  enemy,  and  while  the  gun- 
boats pounded  them  from  the  water  side  draw  tight 
his  circle  of  fire  and  steel  until  they  should  be  starved 
into  surrender  or  shatter  themselves  to  pieces  in  dash- 
ing against  his  lines.  But  the  Confederates  changed 
all  this,  and  had  they  acted  wisely  in  their  moment  of 
temporary  victory  Grant  might  have  been  defeated, 
or  at  most  have  won  only  an  empty  fort. 

That  night  a  council  of  war  met  in  Floyd's  head- 
quarters in  Donelson.  Pillow  was  there,  and  Buck- 
ner. 

"  We  must  cut  our  way  out  through  Grant's  line 
to-morrow  morning,"  said  Floyd.  "  This  fort  can- 
not be  defended  with  less  than  fifty  thousand  men. 
We  will  attack  McClernand's  division,  rout  it,  and 


330         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

then  either  continue  the  attack  upon  the  main  army, 
or  retreat  by  the  Charlotte  road." 

All  that  night  within  the  Confederate  lines  there 
were  regiments  of  infantry,  troops  of  cavalry,  and  bat- 
teries of  artillery  marching  toward  the  Confederate 
left,  until  ten  thousand  men  were  massed  near  the 
point  at  which  the  Charlotte  road  pierces  the  line  of 
earthworks.  Outside,  the  Federal  pickets  were  stamp- 
ing about,  swinging  their  arms,  and  more  intent  upon 
fighting  back  the  numbing  effects  of  the  biting  blast 
than  alert  to  catch  the  sound  of  activity  within  the 
enemy's  lines. 

Morning  came;  reveille  sounded;  the  blanketed 
forms  that  lay  on  the  snow  began  to  show  signs  of 
life.  Suddenly  from  the  picket  line  came  a  shot, — 
another, — a  whole  fusillade.  Men  spring  to  their  feet, 
catch  up  their  guns,  and  begin  to  fall  in  line.  The 
harsh  roll  of  the  drums  mingles  with  the  firing,  that 
comes  faster  and  faster  from  the  pickets.  Company 
after  company  is  formed  and  breaks  into  column  of 
fours,  starting  out  on  the  double-quick  to  learn  whether 
this  was  simply  a  skirmish  on  the  picket  line  or  the 
forerunner  of  a  general  engagement. 

It  is  Oglesby's  regiment  of  Illinoisians,  that  has 
been  set  upon  by  Pillow.  Right  valiantly  they  hold 
their  ground.  To  their  aid  comes  McArthur,  and 
soon  the  whole  of  McClernand's  division  is  engaged. 

Meantime  General  Grant  has  gone  off  to  the  gun- 
boat "  St,  Louis  "  to  confer  with  Commodore  Foote, 
who  had  been  wounded  in  the  river  battle  of  the  day 
before.  As  he  rode  down  toward  the  river's  bank 
he  heard  the  noise  of  the  conflict  on  his  extreme  right, 
but  thought  it  nothing  more  than  a  lively  skirmish. 
"  I  had  no  idea  that  there  would  be  an  engagement 
on  land  unless  I  brought  it  on  myself,"  he  writes,  in 
his  "  Memoirs." 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       331 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  conflict  rages  without  in- 
termission. Could  one  from  some  elevated  point  look 
down  through  the  dense  gray  clouds  of  smoke  that 
conceal  the  battle  from  view,  he  would  see  that  the 
day  is  going  against  the  Federals.  On  all  sides  they 
are  being  beaten  back.  Their  ammunition  has  given 
out,  and  whole  companies  have  ceased  firing  and  sought 
shelter.  Meantime  the  fury  of  the  enemy's  assault 
has  in  no  way  waned.  His  well-drilled  regiments 
and  batteries  keep  up  a  constant  fire  as  they  advance 
through  the  woods.  The  clouds  of  sulphurous  smoke, 
the  sheets  of  lurid  flame  leaping  from  the  muzzles  of 
the  guns,  the  thunders  of  the  cannonade,  the  shouts 
of  the  combatants,  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded  tell 
of  the  desperate  conflict  that  is  raging. 

By  noon  McClernand's  division  has  been  thrown 
into  almost  hopeless  confusion.  Buckner  has  issued 
from  the  centre  of  the  Confederate  works,  and  com- 
pletes on  the  left  of  the  division  the  work  begun  by 
Pillow  on  the  right.  The  road  to  Charlotte  is  open 
to  the  Confederates  if  they  see  fit  to  carry  out  the 
programme  determined  upon  at  the  council  of  the 
night  before.  But  the  madness  of  conquest  is  upon 
Pillow.  All  the  morning  the  success  of  his  regiments 
has  been  uninterrupted.  He  fancies  that  he  can  now 
fall  upon  and  'annihilate  Grant's  entire  army.  Ig- 
noring altogether  his  superior  officer,  General  Floyd, 
he  sends  off  to  General  Johnston  a  hasty  despatch,  de- 
claring "  on  the  honor  of  a  soldier  "  that  the  day  is 
theirs.  Then,  ordering  Buckner  to  press  down  upon 
Lew  Wallace's  right,  he  resumes  the  conflict. 

Now  is,  indeed,  the  critical  moment  for  the  Union 
cause.  McClernand's  division  is  demoralized.  Cruft's 
brigade,  which  Lew  Wallace  sent  to  its  support,  has 
been  beaten  back.  Grant,  the  master-mind,  is  absent 
from  the  scene  of  battle,   and  the  exultant  Confed- 


332         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

erates,  flushed  with  victory,  press  down  upon  Wal- 
lace's division,  which  now  stands  alone  between  the 
Union  army  and  defeat. 

At  this  moment  General  Grant  rides  up  to  the  little 
group  that  stands  at  Lew  Wallace's  side.  He  had 
come  ashore,  not  expecting  to  find  a  battle  raging,  but 
was  met  at  the  landing  by  Captain  Hillyer,  who  told 
him  of  the  morning's  disaster.  Together  they  gal- 
loped up  the  line  to  the  scene  of  the  conflict. 

"  I  saw  the  men  standing  in  knots,  talking  in  the 
most  excited  manner,"  he  writes  in  his  "  Memoirs  "  ; 
"  no  officers  seemed  to  be  giving  any  directions.  The 
soldiers  had  their  muskets,  but  no  ammunition,  while 
there  were  tons  of  it  close  at  hand.  I  heard  some 
of  the  men  say  that  the  enemy  had  come  out  with 
knapsacks  and  haversacks  filled  with  rations.  They 
seemed  to  think  that  this  indicated  a  determination 
on  his  part  to  stay  out  and  fight  just  as  long  as  the 
provisions  held  out." 

But  Grant,  the  trained  soldier,  does  not  accept  this 
theory.  He  knows  that  the  knapsacks  full  of  rations 
betoken  that  the  enemy  intends  to  make  a  march, — a 
retreat.  Wallace  briefly  tells  him  of  the  disaster  on 
the  right;  how  McClernand  has  been  cut  to  pieces 
and  a  road  opened  for  the  enemy's  escape.  With 
scarce  a  moment's  consideration  General  Grant's  resolu- 
tion is  formed. 

11  Gentlemen,  the  position  on  the  right  must  be  re- 
taken," he  said.  Then  to  Colonel  Webster:  "  Some 
of  our  men  are  pretty  badly  demoralized;  but  the 
enemy  must  be  more  so,  for  he  has  attempted  to  force 
his  way  out,  but  has  fallen  back;  the  one  who  attacks 
first  now  will  be  victorious,  and  the  enemy  will  have 
to  be  in  a  hurry  if  he  gets  ahead  of  me." 

General  Smith  determines  to  lead  the  charge  him- 
self.    Lanman's  brigade   of  Iowa  and  Indiana  men 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      333 

is  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  assault.  The  great  guns 
of  the  batteries  thunder  behind  them  as  they  fall  in 
line  in  the  meadow  at  the  foot  of  the  slope.  On 
either  flank  of  the  long  line  are  companies  of  Birge's 
sharpshooters,  who  are  to  keep  up  a  fusillade  as  the 
storming  party  climbs  the  hill.  Scarcely  had  the  brigade 
appeared  upon  the  meadow,  when  the  enemy  divines  its 
purpose,  and  begins  a  furious  cannonade.  Musket-ball 
and  rifle-bullet,  shrapnel  and  grapeshot,  pour  upon  the 
assailants.  "Forward!"  is  the  word;  and  without  a 
cheer,  with  set  faces  and  quick-beating  hearts,  the 
Federals  move  out  into  the  field  so  swept  by  flying  shot 
that  one  soldier  said  afterwards,  "  The  bullets  seemed 
too  thick  for  a  rabbit  to  go  through  alive.,, 

Directly  in  front  of  the  centre  of  the  line  rode 
General  Smith.  He  was  a  noble  sight.  Erect  and 
soldierly  he  bestrode  his  horse,  his  gray  hair  floating 
in  the  breeze,  his  right  hand  grasping  a  sabre,  and  his 
left  gripping  firmly  the  reins  that  hold  his  frightened 
steed  in  control.  In  advance  of  his  line,  the  one 
mounted  man  upon  the  slope,  he  was  of  course  a  con- 
spicuous target  for  sharpshooters,  and  the  bullets 
whizzed  thick  about  him.  By  no  sign  does  he  show 
any  comprehension  of  his  position.  He  sits  his  horse 
as  rigidly  as  though  on  parade,  and  from  time  to 
time  glances  back  at  the  waving  line  behind  him,  as 
though  to  critically  examine  its  alignment.  "  I  was 
nearly  scared  to  death,"  said  a  soldier  who  followed 
Smith  that  day,  "but  I  saw  the  old  man's  white 
mustache  over  his  shoulder,  and  went  on." 

So  onward  up  the  hill  moves  the  slender  line  of 
blue.  Gaps  begin  to  appear  in  it,  and  to  disappear 
at  the  gruff  "  Close  up,  men;  close  up !  "  of  the  officers. 
It  is  a  command  that  has  to  be  repeated  very  often. 
Behind  the  advancing  line  the  ground  is  dotted  with 
blue-clad  forms, — officers  and  soldiers  struck  down  by 


334         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  leaden  hail  from  the  rifle-pits  at  the  summit.     Now 
the   abatis  is   reached.      Great   trunks   of  trees,    the 
branches  cut  short  and  sharpened,  and  so  twisted  and 
intwined  together  as  to  make  a  kind  of  infernal  hedge, 
bars  the  advance  of  the  soldiers.     The  enemy's  fire 
quickens  as  this  point  is  reached.     The  lads  in  blue 
begin  to  despair.     "We  can  never  get  through  that 
barrier  under  this  murderous  fire,"  they  think.     Signs 
of  wavering  appear  in  the  line.     Over  his  shoulder 
glances  the  grim,  gray  general.     He  sees  the  signs  of 
weakness.     "No  flinching  now,  my  lads!     Here,  this 
is  the  way;  come  on!"     And  so  crying,  he  puts  his 
cap  on  the  point  of  his  sword,  raises  it  high  in  air, 
and  picks  his  way  through  the  jagged  timber.     Men 
would  be  less  than  mortal  were  their  blood  not  stirred 
by  the  sight  of  that  bare,  gray  head    leading  them  on 
so  dauntlessly.     After  him  they  rush,  break  through 
the  barricade,  and  form — though  somewhat  raggedly 
— on  the  other  side.     Now  the  day  is  nearly  won. 
But  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  more  have  to  be  travelled, 
and  in  a   few  seconds,  with  a  cheer,   the  blue-coats 
swarm  over  the  breastworks  and  drive  the  Confed- 
erates from  rifle-pits  and  trenches  to  their  inner  line  of 
defence.     And  this  position,  so  valiantly  won,  is  held, 
although  Buckner  himself  comes  determined  to  beat 
back  the  enemy  who  have  thus  pierced  his  outer  works. 
This  assault  has  been  made  by  the  light  of  the  set- 
ting sun.     When  darkness  settles  over  the  scene,  the 
Confederates  find  themselves  in  hopeless  plight.    After 
a  long  day  of  gallant  fighting  they  have  in  no  wise 
improved  their  position.     On  their  right  the  Federals 
have  secured  a  lodgment  within  their  lines;  on  the 
left  the  road  which  Pillow  had  wrested  from  McCler- 
nand  in  the  morning  had  been  closed  again  by  Wal- 
lace's advance  in  the  afternoon.     Right  bitterly  did 
they  condemn  the   folly   which  led  Pillow  to   allow 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      335 

the  army  to  be  cooped  up  again  after  he  had  opened 
an  avenue  of  escape.  More  bitter  still  would  have 
been  their  reproaches  could  they  have  known  that  his 
braggart  despatch  of  the  morning  had  been  flashed 
all  over  the  Confederacy,  and  in  all  parts  of  the 
fair  Southland  the  people  were  rejoicing  in  the  victory 
won  by  their  soldiers  at  Fort  Donelson. 

That  night  a  council  of  war  was  held  at  the  Con- 
federate headquarters.  It  was  clear  that  the  fort  and 
its  army  of  20,000  men  must  be  surrendered. 
But  Floyd  dared  not  surrender.  He  had  been  United 
States  Secretary  of  War,  was  charged  with  treason,  and 
feared  the  Federals  would  hang  him  if  they  caught 
him.  Finally  Buckner  accepted  the  unwelcome  task 
while  his  two  superior  officers,  Floyd  and  Pillow,  fled 
with  a  few  cavalry  by  a  path  impassable  for  the  in- 
fantry and  still  unblocked  by  the  Federals.  In  re- 
sponse to  Buckner's  inquiry  as  to  terms  of  surrender 
Grant  sent  the  curt  reply  with  which  his  name  was 
long  identified — "  No  terms  except  an  immediate  and 
unconditional  surrender  can  be  accepted.  I  propose 
to  move  immediately  upon  your  works."  Necessarily 
these  "  ungenerous  and  unchivalric  terms,"  as  Buckner 
termed  them,  were  agreed  to  and  the  victor  became 
known  as  "  Unconditional  Surrender  Grant "  until  his 
greater  deeds  later  in  the  war  dimmed  the  remem- 
brance of  Fort  Donelson. 

About  11,500  men  and  40  cannon  were  lost  to 
the  Confederacy  by  this  action.  Following  quickly 
on  the  loss  of  Fort  Henry  it  disheartened  and  de- 
pressed the  people  of  the  South  cruelly,  and  corre- 
spondingly elated  the  North.  It  opened  all  Tennessee 
to  the  Union  arms,  put  Johnston's  army  in  full  retreat 
after  eliminating  one-fourth  of  it,  and  for  the  moment 
led  the  exultant  North  to  fancy  that  the  end  of  the 
war  was  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  War  in  the  East — Operations  by  Sea  and  the  Capture  of  New 
Orleans — Battle  of  Ball's  Bluff — General  McClellan  in  Command 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — Opening  of  the  Peninsular  Cam- 
paign— Battle  of  Seven  Pines. 

The  course  of  the  war  in  the  East,  for  many  long 
months  after  the  disaster  at  Bull  Run,  had  in  it  very 
little  to  fire  the  Northern  heart.  While  Grant  was  fight- 
ing McClellan  was  drilling.  While  the  news  from  Ken- 
tucky and  Tennessee  was  of  victories  and  stubborn  ad- 
vances, that  from  Virginia  was  "  All  quiet  along  the 
Potomac  to-night."  The  nation  growled  restlessly, 
impatient  for  action.  President  Lincoln  said  quaintly, 
11  If  General  McClellan  doesn't  want  to  use  that  army, 
Fd  like  to  borrow  it."  But  the  general  convinced  that 
it  was  better  to  be  prepared  first  than  to  be  sorry  after- 
wards, and  determined  that  no  Bull  Run  should  inter- 
rupt his  career,  went  patiently  on  moulding  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  into  proper  form.  Too  patiently 
thought  many  people  then,  but  historians  are  not  sure 
now.  Certainly  when  the  army  was  put  under  other 
command  and  marched  forward,  it  did  not  advance 
to  immediate  victories. 

There  was  fighting,  of  course,  of  a  sort  while  the 
great  army  lay  quiet.  In  West  Virginia  a  half  a 
dozen  small  battles  effectually  destroyed  any  lingering 
shadow  of  Confederate  authority  in  the  state.  Far 
to  the  south  in  Mobile  Bay  the  Confederates  made 
an  ineffectual  attempt  to  take  Fort  Pickens.  Up  and 
down  the  Atlantic  coast  the  Federal  warships  were 
going,  reducing  the  Confederate  forts  at  Hatteras 
Inlet,  at  the  Island  of  Roanoke,  and  at  Beaufort.     In 

336 


2a, 


5  S 

•5  6 


<     -a 
S    S*2 


o 

4)    U 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       337 

these  expeditions  by  sea  the  army  had  a  share,  though 
not  a  glorious  one — its  part  being  chiefly  to  garrison 
the  forts  which  the  navy  had  captured.  The  expedi- 
tion against  the  forts  at  Hatteras  Inlet  was  notable 
for  its  size  and  the  curious  character  of  the  vessels  that 
transported  it.  The  war  demands  had  swept  Northern 
harbors  pretty  clear  of  real  sea-going  craft  and  Burn- 
side's  fifteen  thousand  men  were  towed  along  in  canal 
boats,  barges,  ferry  and  tug  boats,  and  coasting 
schooners.  Eighty  vessels  in  all  made  up  the  strange 
armada  which  sailed  from  Hampton  Roads  on  the 
nth  of  January,  1862.  The  voyage  was  short,  and 
the  weather  happily  propitious.  One  ship  indeed, 
being  wholly  unseaworthy,  foundered,  carrying  down 
with  her  one  hundred  horses,  and  another  ran  ashore 
and  was  a  total  loss,  with  a  great  quantity  of  arms 
and  ammunition.  It  was  well  into  February  before 
the  troops  were  all  disembarked.  The  Confederates 
had  a  number  of  small  forts  on  Roanoke  Island 
which,  on  the  7th  of  February,  the  naval  vessels  en- 
gaged, while  the  soldiers  waded  ashore  from  trans- 
ports that  could  not  approach  closer  to  the  beach  than 
fifty  yards.  The  bottom  was  of  soft  ooze  in  which 
men  sank  up  to  their  thighs.  The  season  was  Febru- 
ary, the  time  night,  and  it  was  a  sadly  bedraggled 
and  chilled  army  about  the  campfires  when  at  mid- 
night the  entire  force  was  landed.  In  the  morning 
they  found  that  besides  his  intrenched  batteries  the 
enemy  had  quagmires  in  his  front  in  which  the  men 
of  an  advancing  line  sank  up  to  their  waists.  Never- 
theless the  attack  was  made,  and  a  wild  charge  down 
a  narrow  causeway  under  a  heavy  fire  won  the  victory. 
The  enemy  were  driven  from  Roanoke  Island,  leaving 
2,000  prisoners  and  40  guns  to  the  victors.  Three 
days  later  the  victorious  army  put  to  sea  again,  this 
time  to  attack  Newbern,  North  Carolina.    As  they  were 


338         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

embarking  they  heard  the  roar  of  a  distant  cannonade, 
but  it  was  days  before  they  learned  that  the  brisk 
north  breeze  had  brought  to  them  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  in  the  battle  between  the  "  Monitor  "  and  "  Mer- 
rimac  "  in  Hampton  Roads,  eighty  miles  away. 

The  fort  at  Newberne  fell  at  the  first  assault.  Then 
the  advancing  army  entered  the  old  cotton-planting 
town  of  Beaufort.  Near  this  spot  was  Fort  Macon, 
too  strong  to  be  reduced  by  fire  from  the  ships,  or 
to  be  carried  by  assault.  The  commander  declared 
he  would  not  surrender  until  he  had  cooked  his  last 
horse  and  eaten  his  last  biscuit.  Accordingly  Burn- 
side  settled  down  to  the  heavy  work  of  a  siege — 
digging  parallels,  piling  sand  bags  and  advancing  bat- 
teries until  at  the  end  of  three  weeks,  hemmed  in  by 
land,  and  continually  pounded  by  the  guns  of  the 
ships  in  the  harbor — the  Confederates  surrendered. 
It  is  recorded  that  most  of  the  horses  in  the  fort  were 
still  uneaten. 

So  the  authority  of  the  United  States  was  gradually 
extended  southward  along  the  Atlantic  coast.  Mainly 
it  was  the  work  of  the  navy,  but  the  troops  went  along 
to  hold  what  was  won  and  often  to  take  a  share  in  the 
winning  of  it.  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  Charleston, 
and  Savannah  were  the  only  important  Atlantic  ports 
remaining  under  Confederate  control.  While  this  end 
was  being  attained  a  joint  naval  and  military  expedition 
under  Admiral  Farragut  and  General  Benjamin  F. 
Butler  had  taken  New  Orleans.  This  great  achieve- 
ment by  which  the  Confederates  were  deprived  of  the 
navigation  of  the  Mississippi  River,  and  lost  their 
greatest  city  was  wholly  the  work  of  the  navy,*  al- 
though General  Butler  took  twelve  thousand  men 
down  to  the  Gulf  coast.     The  troops  were  useful  only 

*  For  an  account  of  it,  see  "  The  Story  of  Our  Navy  for  Young 
Americans,"  by  Willis  J.  Abbot. 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       339 

to  occupy  the  city  after  the  navy  had  compelled  its 
submission.  The  only  glory  they  won  was  to  receive 
the  surrender  of  the  two  forts  after  Farragut  had 
made  them  untenable  by  capturing  New  Orleans  upon 
which  they  depended  for  their  supplies.  Nor  did 
the  occupation  of  New  Orleans  by  Butler  redound 
greatly  to  that  officer's  credit.  True,  it  was  a  difficult 
problem  he  had  to  confront.  The  city  was  over- 
whelmingly pro-secession.  There  was  scarcely  a 
household  from  which  some  member  had  not  gone 
forth  to  fight  with  Lee,  or  with  Beauregard,  the  idol 
of  the  Creoles.  The  temper  of  the  people  manifested 
itself  in  open  hostility  to  the  troops,  and  even  in  di- 
rect insult  to  the  soldiers  on  the  streets.  Butler  having 
absolute  power — for  the  city  was  under  martial  law — a 
well-developed  temper,  and  an  acrid  wit,  employed  all 
three  in  showing  his  resentment  of  the  attitude  of  the 
citizens,  with  the  result  of  making  New  Orleans  the 
most  irreconcilable  community  in  the  whole  South, 
and  Butler  one  of  the  worst  hated  of  men.  But  so 
far  as  active  work  in  the  field  was  concerned,  Butler's 
force  did  none.  Two  small  expeditions  up  the  river 
in  the  direction  of  Vicksburg  were  their  only  signs  of 
activity  during  the  summer  of  1862. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  the  war,  if  we  date 
its  beginning  from  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter,  the  Fed- 
eral army  had  sustained  one  great  reverse — the  defeat 
at  Bull  Run — and  won  one  notable  victory  at  Forts 
Henry  and  Donelson.  The  navy  had  reduced  the  Con- 
federate forts  at  a  dozen  points  along  the  Atlantic 
coast,  was  drawing  ever  closer  the  blockade  which  was 
destined  to  starve  the  Confederacy  into  subjection,  and 
had  captured  New  Orleans,  the  chief  commercial  city 
of  the  revolted  states.  Looking  back  on  the  situation 
after  fifty  years,  one  can  see  that  it  by  no  means  justi- 
fied the  charges  of  lethargy  and  even  cowardice  with 


340         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

which  the  authorities  at  Washington,  and  particularly 
General  McClellan  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  were  pursued  by  the  press  and  the  people. 
The  Confederacy  was  bound  in  a  ring  of  steel  which 
was  being  drawn  tighter.  But  the  process  was  not 
swift  enough  for  the  people,  and  their  outcry  was 
directed  chiefly  against  General  McClellan.  Appointed 
originally  to  command  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  this 
officer,  on  the  retirement  of  General  Scott  in  Novem- 
ber, 1861,  was  made  commander-in-chief.  Some  inci- 
dents occurred  while  he  held  the  lesser  command  that 
disquieted  the  public  and  the  President.  The  general 
was  always  obsessed  by  the  conviction  that  the  enemy's 
force  was  larger  than  his  own,  and  allowed  General 
Joseph  E.  Johnston  to  remain  for  months  in  intrench- 
ments  at  Centreville  when  Johnston's  force  was  in 
fact  less  than  half  the  strength  of  the  Union  army. 
During  this  period  occurred  a  disastrous  and  useless 
sacrifice  of  men  at  Ball's  Bluff,  on  the  Potomac.  Here 
Colonel  Baker,  who  had  resigned  his  seat  as  United 
States  Senator  from  California  to  enter  the  army, 
marched  into  a  trap  in  the  very  first  action  of  his  mili- 
tary service  and  left  there  his  life  and  his  whole  regi- 
ment, killed,  wounded,  or  prisoners.  With  two 
rickety  scows  he  had  ferried  more  than  a  thousand 
men  across  the  rushing  Potomac,  never  thinking  that 
while  an  army  might  be  thus  advanced  a  few  at  a  time 
when  confronted  by  no  foe,  it  could  not  be  withdrawn 
thus  under  fire.  An  officer  of  another  command  pass- 
ing by  warned  him  that  there  were  three  regiments 
of  Confederates  coming  down  from  Leesburg.  "  All 
right,"  responded  Baker,  cheerfully.  "  Don't  worry. 
There  will  be  all  the  more  for  us  to  whip."  As  it 
turned  out  there  were  too  many.  His  troops  outnum- 
bered, trapped  on  the  edge  of  a  precipitous  bluff,  slop- 
ing   down    to    a    river    on    which    floated    only    two 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       341 

insufficient  flatboats,  were  murderously  cut  up  before 
they  surrendered.  22  commissioned  officers  and  710 
soldiers  were  captured. 

The  insistence  of  President  Lincoln  finally  spurred 
General  McClellan  to  action  and  on  the  17th  of  March 
the  movement  against  Richmond  began.  The  Presi- 
dent wanted  the  army  to  go  straight  across  country  as 
the  crow  flies,  past  the  old  battle  ground  at  Bull  Run, 
and  sweeping  Johnston  out  of  his  works  at  Centre- 
ville.  But  McClellan  urged  that  the  army  be  sent 
down  to  Fortress  Monroe  and  then  march  up  the 
Peninsula  between  the  York  and  James  rivers.  By 
taking  this  line  it  would  avoid  crossing  rivers  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy,  and  would  have  easy  water  com- 
munication with  its  base  of  supplies,  for  the  rivers 
emptying  into  Chesapeake  Bay  and  Hampton  Roads 
were  under  control  of  the  United  States  navy.  Mili- 
tary authorities  agree  that  McClellan's  strategy  was 
well-planned  but  badly  executed. 

Lincoln's  objection  to  it  was  the  justifiable  criticism 
that  if  the  Union  army  was  taken  from  around  Wash- 
ington and  set  marching  up  the  Virginia  Peninsula, 
the  Confederate  army  would  be  taken  from  around 
Richmond  and  comfortably  installed  in  Washington. 
He  did  not  think  the  exchange  a  profitable  one.  This 
criticism  was  quieted  by  detaching  McDowell  with 
40,000  men  from  McClellan's  army  and  keeping 
him  between  the  Confederate  army  and  the  capital. 
Washington  began  to  take  on  the  appearance  of  a 
thriving  seaport.  Steamers,  schooners,  barges,  pleas- 
ure-craft, and  gunboats  crowded  the  placid  waters 
of  the  Potomac  River.  A  huge  army,  with  tre- 
mendous troops  of  horses,  thousands  of  wagons, 
hundreds  of  heavy  cannon,  and  of  ammunition 
and  stores  a  veritable  mountain,  had  to  be  moved, 
and  it  took  a   fleet  to   do   it.      120,000   men  in   all 


342         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

were  sent  to  Fortress  Monroe.  At  the  outset 
McClellan  had  asked  for  one  hundred  and  forty  thou- 
sand, but  when  fifty-eight  thousand  had  arrived  he  be- 
gan his  march  upon  Richmond. 

Moving  up  the  Peninsula  from  Fortress  Monroe, 
the  village  of  Yorktown  is  first  passed.  Here  the 
Confederates  had  thrown  up  earthworks,  completely 
blocking  the  road.  It  was  historic  ground  that  the 
Confederates  had  chosen  upon  which  to  dispute  the 
right  of  the  Federals  to  invade  Virginia.  On  that 
very  spot  the  British  general,  Lord  Cornwallis,  had 
been  hemmed  in  by  Washington  and  the  French  allies 
of  the  American  colonies  and  forced  to  surrender. 
In  1862,  the  earthworks  behind  which  crouched  the 
Confederate  soldiers  followed  almost  exactly  the  lines 
of  the  British  fortifications  of  eighty  years  before. 

In  command  of  the  Confederate  forces  was  General 
J.  B.  Magruder.  His  line  of  intrenchments  extended 
over  twelve  miles.  He  had  eleven  thousand  men  to 
defend  it.  Clearly  he  was  in  no  condition  to  resist 
very  long  the  advance  of  the  fifty-eight  thousand  men 
with  whom  McClellan  began  operations.  But  Ma- 
gruder's  orders  were  to  check  as  much  as  possible  the 
advance  of  the  Union  troops.  He  did  it,  and  did  it 
well.  By  much  marching  and  countermarching,  and 
by  mounting  large  batteries  of  "  quaker  "  guns  where 
he  had  no  real  cannon  availing,  he  made  a  formidable 
showing  of  force. 

McClellan,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  enemy,  set- 
tled down  to  a  regular  siege  of  works  he  could  have 
carried  by  assault.  The  siege  lasted  just  a  month, 
when  Magruder  stole  away  in  the  night,  having  done 
just  what  he  had  been  ordered  to  do,  namely  to  delay 
the  Union  advance.  He  did  not  go  far.  While 
amusing  McClellan  at  Yorktown,  he  had  been  building 
new  breastworks  at  Williamsburg,  twelve  miles  in  his 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      343 

rear,  and  in  these  his  men  were  comfortably  sheltered 
when  McClellan's  pursuit  overtook  them.  Here  they 
apparently  determined  to  stand  and  fight.  General 
Johnston's  force,  though  continually  in  receipt  of  re- 
enforcements,  was  still  outnumbered  three  to  one  by 
the  Union  army,  but  behind  breastworks  the  odds  were 
not  so  unequal.  Delay  was  what  the  Richmond  au- 
thorities wanted  and  Johnston  was  there  to  fight  for  it. 

The  Union  forces  rushed  to  the  assault  as  soon  as 
they  came  up  to  the  Confederate  works,  though  it 
was  approaching  evening  and  General  McClellan  was 
not  on  the  ground  to  direct  the  battle.  The  latter  was 
a  serious  handicap.  As  a  result  of  the  lack  of  any 
general  directing  head,  Hooker's  force  was  engaged 
fiercely  with  the  enemy,  while  Smith's  division  on  his 
right  stood  idly  by  watching  the  combat  but  taking  no 
part  in  it. 

"  History  will  not  be  believed,"  said  "  Fighting 
Joe,"  somewhat  bitterly  in  his  report,  "  when  it  is  told 
that  my  division  were  permitted  to  carry  on  this  un- 
equal struggle  from  morning  until  night  unaided,  in 
the  presence  of  more  than  thirty  thousand  of  their 
comrades  with  arms  in  their  hands;  nevertheless  it  is 
true." 

But  just  as  Hooker's  troops,  completely  fatigued 
and  wholly  discouraged  by  the  indifference  of  the  rest 
of  the  army,  were  about  to  abandon  the  contest,  aid 
came.  Phil  Kearny,  with  his  division,  stationed  far 
down  the  road,  heard  the  sound  of  battle.  A  born 
soldier  and  a  veteran  of  the  Mexican  War,  Kearny 
waited  for  no  orders,  but  hurried  his  troops  on,  past 
Sumner's  soldiers  standing  idle  in  the  road,  past 
Smith's  division  listlessly  lounging  in  the  fields,  and  so 
on  to  the  scene  of  battle  where  Hooker  was  being 
forced  back  by  the  Confederates,  who  advanced  across 
the  open.    Kearny's  troops  swung  into  line.    A  blaze 


344         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  fire  and  a  crash  of  musketry,  and  the  smoke  cleared 
away  to  show  the  Confederates  wavering. 

11  Give  them  the  cold  steel,  boys ! "  commanded 
Kearny ;  and  the  line  pushed  stoutly  forward,  while  the 
Confederates  fell  back  before  this  new  foe.  But  be- 
fore the  Federals  could  press  their  advantage  to  a 
victory,  darkness  settled  upon  the  field  and  put  an  end 
to  the  struggle. 

Meantime  the  Union  forces  on  the  right  had  acci- 
dentally stumbled  upon  an  important  discovery,  and 
without  a  struggle  had  secured  a  commanding  position 
on  the  left  flank  of  the  Confederate  line. 

A  countryman  had  come  to  Captain  Stewart,  of 
Smith's  division,  with  the  news  that  the  Confederates 
had  failed  to  occupy  all  the  works  on  their  line,  and 
that  two  redoubts,  at  least,  on  the  left  of  Fort  Magru- 
der  were  untenanted.  Negroes  corroborated  the  story, 
and  volunteered  to  lead  a  party  to  the  spot.  Captain 
Stewart,  with  four  companies,  was  sent  to  reconnoitre, 
and  soon  returned  with  the  news  that  a  redoubt,  seem- 
ingly deserted,  was  seen,  but  that  a  deep  creek  flowed 
before  it,  spanned  only  by  a  narrow  bridge  on  the  crest 
of  a  dam.  Scarce  four  men  could  walk  abreast  on  the 
dam;  and  who  could  tell  that  batteries  and  regiments 
were  not  masked  in  the  woods  about  the  empty  re- 
doubt, ready  to  open  a  murderous  fire  upon  any  troops 
that  might  try  to  cross  the  bridge? 

General  Hancock — then  hardly  known,  the  hero  of 
Gettysburg  later,  and,  still  later,  when  the  cruel  Civil 
War  was  long  past,  a  candidate  for  the  presidency  of 
the  re-United  States — was  sent  with  his  brigade  to  take 
possession  of  the  redoubt.  When  the  bridge  was 
reached,  skirmishers  were  sent  to  cross  it  and  search 
the  woods  on  the  further  shore.  At  their  head 
marched  a  young  lieutenant,  George  A.  Custer.  Many 
years  later  a  band  of  painted  Indians  fell  upon  him 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       345 

and  the  gallant  soldiers  under  his  command,  and  mas- 
sacred them  all.  But  throughout  the  annals  of  the 
Civil  War  we  shall  see  him  often. 

Led  by  Custer,  the  skirmishers  crossed  the  bridge, 
entered  the  woods,  and  scaled  the  redoubt.  All  was 
empty.  The  Confederates  had  apparently  no  idea 
that  such  an  earthwork  existed.  When  Hancock 
reached  the  scene,  he  discovered  another  redoubt,  some 
half  a  mile  away.  This  he  seized.  But  when  he  at- 
tempted yet  another  advance,  he  stirred  up  so  vigorous 
a  resistance  that  he  sent  to  Smith  for  reinforcements, 
and  fell  back. 

No  reinforcements  came,  but  in  their  place  an  order 
to  retire — to  abandon  all  that  he  had  won.  Hancock 
saw  the  folly  of  the  order,  but  had  no  choice  but  to 
obey.  Still,  in  obeying,  he  determined  to  move  as 
slowly  as  possible,  hoping  that  McClellan  might  reach 
the  field  and  infuse  some  life  and  some  military  skill 
into  the  Union  ranks.  But,  first  of  all,  he  had  to  pre- 
pare to  meet  the  assault  for  which  he  could  see  the 
Confederates  preparing.  With  a  cheer,  the  long  line 
of  gray-clad  men  broke  from  the  woods  and  came 
sweeping  down  upon  Hancock's  one  battery  and  four 
regiments.  He  fell  back  across  a  level  plain  and  down 
a  gentle  incline,  which,  for  a  moment,  hid  his  move- 
ments from  the  foe.  Here  he  halted  and  turned  about. 
The  exultant  pursuers  came  rushing  over  the  crest  of 
the  hill  only  to  encounter  a  deadly  volley.  As 
they  wavered,  the  Union  troops  swept  forward  cheer- 
ing; the  Confederates  broke  and  fled  to  the  woods. 
It  was  a  fair  repulse.  "  Bull  Run !  Bull  Run !  "  the  Con- 
federates had  shouted  in  derision  as  they  saw  Hancock 
retreat;  but  Hancock  avenged  Bull  Run. 

But  now  the  gathering  darkness  put  an  end  to  the 
fighting  on  this  part  of  the  line,  as  it  had  in  Hooker's 
front.    But  Hancock  did  not  abandon  the  position  he 


346         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

had  won,  for  by  this  time  McClellan  had  come  gallop- 
ing to  the  battle  field,  and  gave  orders  that  he  should 
hold  his  ground  at  any  cost.  Then  he  set  about  pre- 
paring for  an  assault  on  the  morrow;  but  when  morn- 
ing dawned  there  was  no  enemy  to  attack.  Repeating 
the  tactics  of  Yorktown,  the  Confederates  had  silently 
stolen  away  in  the  night.  The  Union  loss  in  the  battle, 
which  is  known  as  the  battle  of  Williamsburg,  was 
2,228,  while  the  Confederate  loss  was  hardly  half  as 
great. 

McClellan  now  stopped  his  advance  for  a  time  to 
rest  his  army — a  practice  to  which  he  was  much  ad- 
dicted, and  for  which  he  incurred  general,  but  perhaps 
unjust  condemnation.  It  was  a  practice  by  the  way 
to  which  neither  Grant  nor  Stonewall  Jackson  was 
much  given.  His  advance  thus  far,  however,  had 
much  disquieted  the  enemy.  His  position  far  up  the 
Peninsula  made  it  impossible  for  the  Confederates  to 
longer  hold  Norfolk,  and  that  town  was  abandoned, 
and  the  famous  iron-clad  "  Merrimac,"  which  had  held 
the  James  River  against  all  comers,  was  blown  up. 
Thereupon  the  Federal  ships  entered  the  James  and 
proceeded  up  that  river  to  a  point  within  eight  miles 
of  Richmond,  where  their  farther  progress  was  blocked 
by  batteries.  McClellan  himself  was  by  that  time 
not  much  farther  distant  from  the  Confederate  capital. 

Then  something  very  like  a  panic  set  in  among  the 
people  of  the  beleaguered  city.  They  were  guarded 
by  miles  of  formidable  breastworks,  with  thousands  of 
gallant  gray-clad  soldiers  to  defend  them.  They  had 
the  very  flower  of  the  Confederate  army  commanding 
the  troops.  Lee  was  there,  and  Johnston,  the  lion- 
hearted,  whose  only  failing,  as  his  chief  said,  was  "  a 
bad  habit  of  getting  wounded,"  and  "  Jeb  "  Stuart, 
the  dashing  leader  of  cavalry.  But  notwithstanding 
all,  the  thought  of  a  hostile  army  within  eight  miles 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       347 

spread  terror  in  the  streets  of  the  city.  The  records 
of  the  Confederate  government  were  hastily  sent  to 
Columbia,  South  Carolina.  The  Secretary  of  War  sent 
his  family  away.  The  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  had  a 
train  kept  in  readiness  for  instant  flight.  Even  Jef- 
ferson Davis  himself  feared  the  worst.  "  Uncle  Jeff, 
thinks  we  had  better  go  to  a  safer  place  than  Rich- 
mond," wrote  his  niece  in  a  letter  which  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Federals. 

The  Union  army  under  General  McClellan  outnum- 
bered the  Confederates  opposing  it  by  two  to  one. 
But  the  general  saw  a  way  still  further  to  strengthen 
it.  At  Fredericksburg,  only  sixty  miles  away,  was 
McDowell  with  forty  thousand  men.  This  was  the 
force  that  had  been  left  to  protect  Washington  from 
Johnston  when  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  sailed  away 
for  Fortress  Monroe.  Both  McClellan  and  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  thought  that  McDowell's  force  might 
be  added  to  the  troops  before  Richmond.  Could 
that  be  done  the  Confederates  would  be  outnumbered 
three  to  one. 

The  defenders  of  Richmond  were  not  blind  to  the 
peril  confronting  them.  General  Robert  E.  Lee  was 
by  this  time  in  command  of  all  the  Confederate  ar- 
mies, subject  only  to  the  authority  of  President  Davis. 
It  is  the  judgment  of  history,  by  the  way,  that  it  would 
have  been  better  far  for  the  South  had  that  Presidential 
authority  been  less  often  exerted.  It  was  evident 
that  the  junction  of  McDowell  and  McClellan  must 
be  averted.  But  how?  Opposed  to  McDowell's 
forty  thousand  men  were  but  nine  thousand  Con- 
federates whom  he  could  of  course  easily  sweep 
out  of  his  path.  The  one  practicable  device 
was  to  make  McDowell  so  urgently  needed 
elsewhere  as  to  end  all  thought  of  his  joining 
McClellan.     This   was   accomplished  by   the    agency 


348         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  Stonewall  Jackson,  a  general  upon  whom  Lee 
called  continually  for  the  most  vital  services  and 
who  not  once  until  the  day  of  his  death  on  the  battle 
field  failed  to  respond  with  success.  The  story  of  how 
Jackson  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  with  a  numerically 
inferior  body  of  men,  kept  Washington  in  terror,  tied 
McDowell  to  his  position  on  the  Rappahannock,  and 
paralyzed  McClellan  hundreds  of  miles  away  will  be 
told  in  another  chapter.  It  is  enough  at  this  moment 
to  note  that  President  Lincoln  after  first  promising 
McDowell's  aid  to  McClellan  was  so  worked  upon  by 
Jackson's  menacing  attitude  that  he  recalled  twenty 
thousand  men  from  the  projected  Richmond  campaign 
to  go  to  the  Shenandoah. 

In  depriving  McClellan  of  McDowell's  aid,  the 
President  did  not  mean  to  give  any  excuse  for  delaying 
the  attack  upon  Richmond.  "  I  think  the  time  is 
near,"  he  telegraphed  during  the  last  week  in  May, 
"  when  you  must  either  attack  the  enemy  or  give  up 
the  job."  At  the  moment  McClellan's  army  was  in  a 
ticklish  situation,  astride  the  Chickahominy  River,  and 
in  a  region  which  constant  rains  had  turned  into  a 
morass.  The  position  had  been  taken  with  the  expec- 
tation that  one  weak  point  would  be  filled'  by 
McDowell.  But  the  news  that  that  commander  was 
not  coming  was  known  to  the  Confederates  as  soon 
as  to  McClellan,  and  they  met  the  President's  eager- 
ness for  a  battle  by  attacking,  themselves. 

By  the  treacherous  Chickahominy,  subject  to  sudden 
freshets,  the  Union  army  was  divided  into  two  parts. 
Three  corps — Sumner's,  Fitz-John  Porter's,  and  Frank- 
lin's— were  on  the  north  side  of  the  river.  Keyes's 
and  Heintzelman's  corps  were  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  stream  near  Richmond.  General  Johnston  being 
well  informed  by  his  scouts  of  the  disposition  of  the 
Federal  forces,  determined  to  sally  from  his  intrench- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       349 

ments,  fall  upon  Keyes  and  Heintzelman,  and  put 
them  to  rout. 

It  is  the  31st  of  May.  General  Casey's  division 
of  Keyes's  corps  is  busily  engaged  in  throwing  up  a 
redoubt  on  both  sides  of  the  Williamsburg  road,  a 
little  over  five  miles  from  Richmond.  This  is  the 
very  advance  guard  of  the  Union  army.  Behind 
Casey,  on  the  same  road,  at  a  point  known  as  Seven 
Pines,  is  Couch.  His  position  is  at  the  junction  of 
two  roads,  the  Williamsburg  road  and  the  "  Nine-mile 
road."  Here  stood  twin  farm-houses,  and  hard  by,  a 
grove  of  seven  straight  and  towering  pine-trees,  whence 
the  spot  derived  its  picturesque  name.  Couch  had  a  line 
of  earthworks  at  Seven  Pines,  and  the  left  flank  of 
his  division  extended  a  mile  and  a  half  up  the  "  Nine- 
mile  road  "  to  a  railway  station  called  Fair  Oaks. 

All  night  the  rain  had  descended  in  torrents.  The 
weary  soldiers  in  Casey's  camp  lay  in  the  mud,  and 
were  pelted  with  the  drenching  floods  of  a  Southern 
thunder-storm.  When  dawn  came  they  willingly  left 
so  uncomfortable  a  couch,  and  again  set  to  work  on 
their  intrenchments.  As  the  morning  wore  on,  Casey 
began  to  suspect  that  an  attack  upon  his  post  was  im- 
pending. From  the  Richmond  and  York  railway,  that 
ran  from  the  Confederate  city  to  the  front,  came  a 
constant  rumbling  of  trains  as  though  troops  were 
being  sent  forward.  After  a  time,  Casey's  scouts 
came  in  with  a  prisoner,  who  proved  to  be  one  of 
General  Johnston's  aides.  Though  the  prisoner  bore 
himself  with  reserve,  there  was  that  in  his  manner 
which  confirmed  Casey's  suspicion,  and  led  him  to 
urge  on  his  men  in  their  work. 

Casey's  fears  were  well  grounded.  The  Confed- 
erate army  was  in  full  advance  upon  him.  Had  Gen- 
eral Johnston's  plan  been  adhered  to  properly  by  the 
division  commanders,  the  battle  would  have  already 


350         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

been  begun.  The  three  division  commanders,  Long- 
street,  D.  H.  Hill,  and  Huger,  were  to  have  advanced 
by  three  roads  converging  at  Seven  Pines.  But  Long- 
street,  in  some  way,  misunderstood  his  orders,  and  fell 
into  the  same  road  with  Huger,  thereby  greatly  de- 
laying the  advance  of  that  officer's  division.  There 
was  bad  generalship  at  more  than  one  point  along  the 
Confederate  line.  Writes  an  officer  who  wore  the 
gray  that  day:  "A  little  brook  near  Richmond  was 
greatly  swollen,  and  a  long  time  was  wasted  crossing  it 
on  an  improvised  bridge  made  of  planks,  a  wagon  mid- 
stream serving  as  a  trestle.  Over  this  the  division 
passed  in  single  file,  you  may  imagine  with  what  delay. 
If  the  division  commander  had  given  orders  for  the 
men  to  sling  their  cartridge-boxes,  haversacks,  etc.,  on 
their  muskets,  and  wade  without  breaking  formation, 
they  could  have  crossed  by  fours  at  least,  with  water 
up  to  their  waists,  and  hours  would  have  been  saved." 

Blunders  like  this,  combined  with  the  fathomless, 
sticky  mud  of  Old  Virginia,  so  delayed  the  Confederate 
advance  that  the  attack  on  Casey's  outposts  was  not 
made  until  noon. 

When  the  storm  burst,  it  was  with  fury.  First  a 
few  scattering  shots  along  the  picket  line,  then  volleys, 
then  the  pickets  came  in  on  the  run.  For  a  few  yards 
before  Casey's  rifle-pits  and  half-finished  redoubt  the 
ground  was  cleared,  but  beyond  that  was  a  dense 
thicket  in  which  the  Confederates  were  moving,  com- 
pletely concealed  from  view.  But  speedily  they  burst 
into  sight, — a  long  line  with  gleaming  bayonets  and 
waving  colors  rushing  down  upon  the  Federals. 
Casey's  guns  speak  out  spitefully.  They  are  loaded 
with  grape-shot,  and  at  that  short  range  do  fearful 
damage.  The  musketry  fire,  too,  is  deadly,  though 
Casey's  men  are  green  hands  unused  to  the  smell  of 
powder.     For  a  time  the   Confederates  are  held  in 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       351 

check.  Then  Longstreet  comes  to  the  rescue,  and 
Casey  is  taken  in  the  flank.  Seeing  his  peril,  he  orders 
a  charge.  Three  regiments  led  by  General  Naglee 
spring  from  the  earthworks,  and  with  mighty  cheers 
rush  upon  Longstreet's  lines,  which  await  not  their 
coming  but  flee  to  the  protection  of  the  woods.  Then 
followed  an  hour  of  charges  and  counter-charges.  The 
Confederates,  when  too  hotly  pressed,  took  to  the 
woods;  the  Nationals  had  their  breastworks  for  a 
place  of  final  refuge.  But  through  it  all  the  Confed- 
erates, being  in  overwhelming  numbers,  were  working 
around  on  Casey's  flank,  until  at  last  that  officer  found 
himself  in  danger  of  being  wholly  surrounded.  He 
had  sent  to  the  rear  for  aid,  but  none  had  come.  At 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  began  to  fall  back. 
Most  of  the  Union  guns  were  taken  away  by  the  re- 
treating soldiers,  but  seven  were  so  situated'  that  to 
remove  them  was  impossible.  Colonel  Bailey  under- 
took to  spike  these,  but  was  shot  down  by  the  tri- 
umphant Confederates,  who  swarmed  over  the  breast- 
works as  the  Federals  withdrew. 

The  battle  had  now  been  in  progress  for  four  hours. 
Strange  to  say,  neither  of  the  commanding  generals 
knew  that  it  was  under  way.  McClellan  was  sick  in 
his  tent  at  Gaines's  Mill,  and  not  until  late  in  the  after- 
noon did  he  hear  the  cannonading  that  told  of  a  battle 
being  fought.  Johnston  had  accompanied  Smith's 
division  along  "  Nine-mile  road,"  intending  to  attack 
the  Federal  position  at  Fair  Oaks  as  soon  as  he  should 
hear  the  thunder  of  Longstreet's  guns  at  Seven  Pines. 
A  fierce  storm  of  wind  followed  the  thunder-shower 
of  the  night,  and  bore  the  sound  of  battle  away  from 
Johnston,  so  that  not  until  four  o'clock  did  he  learn 
that  the  fighting  was  fierce  on  his  right.  When  the 
news  reached  him,  however,  he  was  prompt  to  act 
upon  it.     Hurling  his  troops  against  the  Union  line 


352         STORY   OF  OUR   ARMY 

it  Fair  Oaks  he  pierced  it.  Then  wheeling  to  the 
right,  he  sent  his  troops  down  the  "  Nine-mile  road," 
to  aid  Longstreet  by  taking  the  Federals  at  Seven 
Pines  in  the  flank. 

By  this  time  the  condition  of  the  Federals  begins 
to  appear  desperate.  Nearly  all  of  the  troops  south 
of  the  Chickahominy  have  been  brought  to  the  scene 
of  battle,  but  even  then  they  were  but  eighteen  thou- 
sand against  thirty  thousand  of  the  enemy.  Bit  by  bit 
they  have  been  forced'  back.  First  Casey  has  been 
driven  from  his  advanced  position  back  to  Seven  Pines. 
Then  as  Smith's  troops  came  pouring  down  the  "  Nine- 
mile  road,"  this  position  in  turn  is  abandoned  for  one 
some  two  miles  farther  back,  where  Phil  Kearny  has 
fortunately  thrown  up  some  breastworks.  Here  they 
make  a  stubborn  stand.  Again  and  again  the  Con- 
federates dash  against  that  dark-blue  line,  only  to  fall 
back  shattered  like  waves  against  a  rocky  crag.  Up  and 
down  the  Union  lines  go  the  officers,  exhorting  their 
men  to  be  firm  and  cool,  to  stand  their  ground  dog- 
gedly, and  see  that  each  shot  tells.  If  that  position 
is  lost,  the  fate  of  the  eighteen  thousand  men  south  of 
the  Chickahominy  is  sealed,  and  the  Peninsular  cam- 
paign will  end  in  disaster  and  disgrace  to  the  Federal 
arms.  Let  that  position  be  held,  and  there  is  still 
hope  for  success.  It  is  a  desperate  chance,  but  the 
boys  in  blue  are  making  the  best  of  it. 

Heintzelman's  messenger  had  reached  McClellan 
and  told  him  how  sore  beset  were  the  troops  about 
Seven  Pines.  McClellan  speedily  sent  word  to  Sum- 
ner to  hasten  to  their  assistance,  and  at  two  o'clock  his 
troops  began  to  cross  the  bridge.  For  a  time  it  seemed 
as  though  the  frail  structure  would  not  bear  the  strain 
of  marching  troops.  The  turbid  tide  of  the  Chicka- 
hominy surged  about  its  piers  until  they  shook  in  their 
foundations.     The  corduroy  of  logs  that  formed  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       353 

approach  to  the  bridge  was  under  water,  the  flooring 
of  the  bridge  was  afloat,  and  only  kept  from  drifting 
down  the  stream  by  ropes  tied  to  trees  upon  the  shore. 
The  "  Grape-vine  Bridge  "  was  what  the  soldiers  called 
the  tottering  structure.  But  frail  though  it  was,  it 
served  its  purpose. 

The  bridge  once  crossed,  Sumner's  men  have  a  hard 
task  before  them.  Their  way  lies  through  a  swamp, 
thick  grown  with  trees  and  bushes,  their  roots  bedded 
in  a  sticky  clay,  which  clung  to  the  feet  of  the  soldiers 
and  wheels  of  the  cannon,  making  marching  well-nigh 
impossible.  Imbedded  to  their  axles  in  this  mud, 
many  of  the  guns  became  immovable.  One  battery 
alone  made  the  difficult  march  successfully.  Through 
mud  and  stagnant  water  the  soldiers  plodded  bravely 
on,  and  by  six  o'clock  had  reached  the  scene  of  battle. 

Though  surprised  and  sorely  disappointed  by  the 
appearance  of  this  strong  body  of  fresh  troops  to  aid 
their  enemies,  the  Confederate  troops  turned  their  at- 
tention speedily  to  this  new  foe.  Whiting's  brigade 
charged  valiantly  upon  the  new-comers,  but  was  driven 
back  by  a  tempest  of  grape-shot  from  the  guns  of 
Kirby's  battery,  which  alone  had  been  freed  from  the 
clutches  of  the  swamp.  Then  General  Johnston  him- 
self rallied  about  him  the  strongest  brigade  of  Smith's 
division  and  led  it  across  the  open  field,  up  to  the  very 
muzzles  of  the  guns  that  poured  out  a  murderous  fire 
all  the  time.  At  Bull  Run,  Johnston  had  taken  some 
of  Kirby's  guns,  and  the  gunners  now  set  their  teeth 
hard,  and  swore  they  would  die  at  their  posts  before 
their  cannon  should  again  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Confederate  soldier.  With  fierce  energy  they  loaded 
and  fired  their  pieces.  Before  the  storm  of  flying  lead 
and  iron  horse  and  man  went  down.  Johnston  was 
hit  by  a  flying  bit  of  shell  and  fell  from  his  steed.  His 
men  saw  him  fall,  and  wavered.     One  more  volley, 


354         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

and  they  broke  and  fell  back  from  the  hard-fought 
field.  The  Union  infantry  dashed  out  from  its  shel- 
tered line  in  the  woods.  It  swept  down  the  field  upon 
the  retreating  Confederates;  they  gave  way,  and  for 
the  first  time  that  day  the  tide  of  victory  seemed  to 
turn  toward  the  side  of  the  Federals. 

It  was  an  anxious  night  at  the  headquarters  of  each 
army.  At  {ive  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Confeder- 
ates had  been  jubilant.  They  had  carried  every  posi- 
tion assaulted,  they  had  forced  the  Federals  back 
nearly  two  miles,  they  had  pierced  their  enemy's  line, 
and  complete  success  seemed  certain.  Richmond  was 
ablaze  with  enthusiasm  over  the  reported  victory.  But 
the  appearance  of  Sumner  changed  all  this.  How  he 
had  crossed  the  Chickahominy  none  could  tell,  but  that 
the  rest  of  McClellan's  army  might  come  to  the  battle 
field  by  the  same  path  was  more  than  possible.  More- 
over, Johnston's  wound  had  deprived  the  Southern 
army  of  its  head.  Smith,  who  succeeded  to  the  com- 
mand, could  by  no  means  replace  him.  After  con- 
sultation with  the  chief  officers  of  the  Confederate 
government  in  Richmond,  it  was  determined  to  with- 
draw the  army  in  the  morning. 

Nor  were  the  hearts  of  the  officers  about  the  Union 
campfires  much  lighter.  True,  they  felt  the  great 
danger  was  past,  but  they  had  a  smarting  sense  of  de- 
feat and  disgrace  left  after  the  day's  fighting.  After 
chasing  the  enemy  to  his  stronghold  at  Richmond, 
it  was  hardly  creditable  to  the  Federal  generalship 
that  he  should  have  sallied  out  and  put  his  pursuers  to 
flight.  As  for  the  outcome  of  the  morrow's  battle, 
none  could  tell  what  it  might  be. 

The  story  of  the  second  day's  battle  is  quickly  told. 
The  Confederates  made  scarcely  any  resistance  to  the 
Federal  advance,  and  before  noon  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  again  waved  over  the  positions  from  which  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      355 

blue-coats  had  been  driven  the  day  before.  Sullenly, 
and  with  heavy  hearts,  the  Confederates  made  their 
way  back  to  the  beleaguered  city,  from  which  they  had 
so  gaily  issued  on  the  day  before.  The  Federals 
pressed  closely  on  behind  them  until  within  four  miles 
of  the  city.  "  I  have  no  doubt  but  we  might  have 
gone  right  into  Richmond,"  said  General  Heintzelman 
afterwards,  and  the  other  commanders  of  Union  divi- 
sions concurred  in  this  opinion. 

Thus  ended  the  battle  known  variously  as  the  battle 
of  Seven  Pines  or  the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks.  That  it 
had  not  terminated  disastrously  to  the  Union  arms 
was  due  chiefly  to  General  Sumner's  promptitude,  and 
perhaps  somewhat  to  General  Johnston's  wound;  for 
had  that  officer  been  on  the  field  upon  the  second  day 
of  battle,  the  Confederates  would  have  not  so  tamely 
retreated.  Though  in  some  degree  indecisive,  the  bat- 
tle was  one  of  the  most  hotly  contested  of  the  whole 
war.  The  Unidn  loss,  in  killed,  wounded,  and  pris- 
oners, amounted  to  5,739  men.  The  Confederate  loss 
nearly  approached  7,000  men.  As  not  more  than 
15,000  men  on  either  side  were  actually  engaged,  the 
loss  was  somewhat  unusual. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Jackson's  Shenandoah  Campaign— The  Seven  Days  Before  Rich- 
mond—Battle of  Mechanicsville— Battle  of  Malvern  Hill— With- 
drawal of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

For  thirty  days  General  McClellan  and  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  rested  so  close  to  Richmond  that  the 
sound  of  steam  whistles  in  that  city  could  easily  be 
heard  in  the  Union  camp.  The  delay  was  partly  due 
to  the  need  for  building  roads  and  bridges  across  the 
swamps  which  must  be  crossed  before  Richmond  could 
be  reached,  partly  to  McClellan's  constitutional  habit 
of  delay,  and  partly  to  the  restless  activity  of  Stonewall 
Jackson  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  by  which 
the  reinforcements  promised  by  Secretary  of  War 
Stanton  to  McClellan  were  diverted  from  him  not 
merely  once,  but  three  times.  That  valley  campaign 
can  be  sketched  here  only  in  the  broadest  and  most 
general  way.  Described  in  detail,  it  would  be  of  inter- 
est only  to  the  professional  student  of  military  strategy. 
To  such  students,  it  has  indeed  long  been  regarded  as 
a  study  fertile  in  suggestion  and  instruction.  Lord 
Wolseley,  commander-in-chief  of  the  British  army, 
wrote  of  Jackson's  operations,  "  These  brilliant  suc- 
cesses appear  to  me  to  be  models  of  the  kind  both  in 
conception  and  execution.  They  should  be  closely 
studied  by  all  officers  who  wish  to  learn  the  art  and 
science  of  war." 

Jackson's  task  was  at  first  to  keep  Banks,  who  com- 
manded the  Union  forces  in  the  valley,  from  reenforc- 
ing  McClellan  when  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
at  Centreville.     Later,  when  that  army  by  its  march 

356 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      357 

up  the  Peninsula  was  menacing  Richmond  from  the 
east,  he  was  relied  upon  to  keep  McDowell  at  Fred- 
ericksburg with  forty  thousand  men  from  going  to 
McClellan's  aid.  He  had  for  this  purpose  never 
more  than  eighteen  thousand  men,  but  the  greater 
part  of  the  time  his  effectives  averaged  about  seventy- 
five  hundred.  What  men  he  had  he  used  so  as  to  lead 
his  enemy  to  think  he  had  thrice  his  actual  numbers. 
His  forced  marches  were  the  marvel  of  military  annals, 
and  by  hard  trudging  over  the  Virginia  roads  his  men 
earned  the  name  of  u  Jackson's  foot  cavalry." 

Four  of  his  favorite  maxims  give  the  real  gist  of 
his  military  tactics. 

i.  ''Always  mystify,  mislead,  and  surprise  the 
enemy  if  possible. 

2.  "  To  move  swiftly,  strike  vigorously,  and  secure 
all  the  fruits  of  victory  is  the  secret  of  successful  war. 

3.  "  Never  fight  against  heavy  odds,  if  by  any  pos- 
sible chance  you  can  hurl  your  whole  force  on  merely 
a  part,  and  that  the  weakest  part  of  your  enemy,  and 
crush  it. 

4.  "  When  you  strike  him  and  overcome  him,  never 
give  up  the  pursuit  so  long  as  your  men  have  strength 
to  follow;  for  an  enemy  routed,  if  hotly  pursued, 
becomes  panic-stricken  and  can  be  destroyed  by  half 
their  number." 

Putting  in  practice  these  maxims,  General  Jackson, 
between  the  last  of  February  when  Banks  with  twenty- 
three  thousand  men  entered  the  valley  to  undo  him, 
until  the  17th  of  June  when  the  Confederate  com- 
mander slipped  away  from  the  valley  and  joined 
Johnston  in  the  Chickahominy  swamps  before  Rich- 
mond, menaced,  fought,  tricked,  evaded,  and  out- 
generaled the  Union  commanders  so  that  they  were 
kept  out  of  the  campaign  against  Richmond  altogether. 

On  the  2 1  st  of  March,  Jackson  received  word  from 


358         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

his  ever  alert  cavalry  leader,  Ashby,  that  the  Federals 
were  withdrawing  down  the  valley.  Just  what  that 
meant,  Jackson  could  not  know.  What  it  really  did 
mean  was  that  Washington  had  ordered  Banks  to  de- 
tach most  of  his  troops  from  the  valley,  to  join 
McDowell  and  help  the  advance  against  Richmond. 
Not  knowing  this  but  scenting  danger,  Jackson  marched 
his  men  forty  miles  in  thirty-six  hours,  fell  upon 
Shields,  whom  Banks  had  left  to  guard  the  valley,  and 
held  him  in  fierce  struggle  all  day.  The  Confederates 
were  beaten,  but  the  purpose  of  their  attack  was  at- 
tained. Shields  could  not  believe  that  they  would 
have  attacked  at  all  unless  expecting  large  reinforce- 
ments and  in  panic  he  sent  off  to  Banks  for  aid.  That 
general,  who  had  already  passed  the  Blue  Ridge  on 
his  way  to  join  McDowell  turned  about  and  marched 
back.  The  panic  extended  to  Washington  and  the 
President  took  one  division  away  from  McClellan  and 
sent  it  to  West  Virginia,  and  commanded  McDowell 
to  abandon  his  purpose  of  joining  McClellan.  At 
this  battle  of  Kernstown  the  Confederates  lost  718  of 
the  3,000  men  who  went  into  the  fight,  but  its 
worth  to  the  Confederate  cause  was  incalculable. 
There  was  no  disorder  in  the  retreat.  "  Such  was 
their  gallantry  and  high  state  of  discipline,"  wrote 
General  Shields,  "  that  at  no  time  during  the  battle 
or  pursuit  did  they  give  way  to  panic."  The  plain 
truth  appears  to  be  that  the  men  reached  the  battle 
field  so  fatigued  as  to  be  physically  unfit  for  the  con- 
flict. "  The  men  were  so  utterly  broken  down,"  wrote 
an  eye-witness,  "  and  so  foot-sore  and  weary,  that  if 
they  trod  on  a  rock  or  any  irregularity  they  would 
stagger." 

For  a  month  the  two  armies  in  the  valley  sparred 
continually  for  time,  Jackson  moving  backward  con- 
tinually like  a  pugilist  who  keeps  his  antagonist  busy 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      359 

with  feints  and  light  blows  but  steadily  refuses  a 
serious  rally.  Banks  pursued  steadily,  not  rushing  nor 
seeking  to  bring  on  a  decisive  struggle,  but  keeping  his 
skirmishers  ever  in  touch  with  Jackson's  rear-guard. 
Then  suddenly  Jackson  slipped  out  of  the  valley, 
through  the  mountain  passes,  marching  his  men  often 
thirty  miles  a  day — twelve  to  fifteen  miles  is  considered 
more  than  an  average  day's  march. 

"  Why  is  old  Jack  a  greater  general  than  Moses?  " 
was  one  of  the  stock  questions  with  which  his  veterans 
quizzed  greenhorns. 

"  Because  it  took  Moses  forty  years  to  march  the 
children  of  Israel  through  the  desert,  while  old  Jack 
would  have  double-quicked  them  through  in  three 
days." 

The  Federals  thought  he  was  retreating  but  they  had 
scarcely  sent  off  boastful  telegrams  to  Washington 
when  he  reappeared,  reenforced,  and  attacked  all  along 
the  line — at  Staunton,  Front  Royal,  Middletown,  and 
finally  at  Winchester.  Jackson  himself  rode  at  the 
head  of  his  troops,  and  coming  to  the  crest  of  a  lofty 
hill  near  Middletown,  saw  spread  out  before  him  a 
broad  and  fertile  valley.  Down  the  middle  of  the  val- 
ley ran  a  road,  and  along  that  road  a  long  column 
of  white-topped  wagons,  rumbling  artillery  trains,  am- 
bulances, and  bodies  of  cavalry  and  infantry  was  slowly 
moving.  It  was  the  army  of  Banks,  and  Jackson  had 
arrived  just  in  time  to  take  it  in  flank.  Hastily  the 
artillery  was  brought  into  position,  and  opened  a 
deadly  fire  on  the  hostile  army.  The  cavalry  dashed 
forward  to  cut  off  the  enemy's  retreat.  The  shells 
from  the  cannon  planted  on  the  hills  created  the  direst 
consternation  in  the  Union  ranks.  "  The  turnpike," 
says  Jackson,  in  his  report,  "  which  had  just  before 
teemed  with  life,  presented  a  most  appalling  spectacle 
of  carnage  and  destruction.     The  road  was  literally 


36o         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

obstructed  with  the  mangled  and  confused  mass  of 
struggling  and  dying  horses  and  riders." 

It  was  but  the  rear  of  Banks's  army  that  Jackson  had 
thus  intercepted.  The  main  body  of  the  army  had 
long  before  passed  Middletown  on  the  way  to  Win- 
chester. As  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  along  the  road 
extended  the  wagon  trains  which  brought  up  the  rear 
of  the  army.  To  capture  these  was  the  task  of 
Ashby,  and  with  his  cavalry  and  two  batteries  of  ar- 
tillery he  set  out  in  hot  pursuit.  The  teamsters  strained 
every  nerve  to  take  their  wagons  out  of  danger. 
Freight  was  thrown  out  to  lighten  the  load.  The  road 
was  strewn  with  guns,  knapsacks,  oil-cloths,  cartridge- 
boxes,  haversacks,  small-arms,  broken-down  wagons, 
and  dead  horses.  It  was  like  the  scene  at  the  retreat 
from  Bull  Run.  Ashby's  batteries  would  gallop  up 
within  a  short  range  of  the  retreating  trains,  unlimber, 
pound  away  at  them  until  they  were  out  of  range,  lim- 
ber up  again,  and  gallop  like  mad  until  once  more 
within  range.  A  shell  striking  a  wagon  would  over- 
turn it,  and  the  road  would  be  at  once  hopelessly 
blocked  for  everything  in  the  rear.  Before  the  wreck 
could  be  cleared  away  the  Confederate  troopers  would 
be  on  the  ground,  and  the  teamsters  would  be  made 
prisoners.  Before  that  day's  work  was  done  the  Fed- 
erals had  lost  a  vast  quantity  of  wagons,  teams,  camp 
equipage,  and  ammunition,  nine  thousand  stand  of 
arms,  and  three  thousand  and  fifty  prisoners. 

The  main  body  of  Jackson's  troops  pressed  rapidly 
along  the  road  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  Hundreds 
of  abandoned  wagons,  filled  with  provisions,  sometimes 
overturned  or  burning,  were  passed;  but  the  troops  had 
no  time  to  stop  and  feast  upon  their  contents.  On 
through  Middletown  and  through  Newton  the  long 
gray  column  took  its  way.  The  people  of  the  vicinity 
were  loud  in  their  expressions  of  friendship  for  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      361 

Confederates.  "  They  seemed  ready  to  embrace  every 
soldier,''  said  one  of  the  command;  "  and  so  it  was  all 
along  the  road,  bringing  to  them  and  forcing  on  the 
half-starved  fellows,  as  they  swept  by  in  pursuit  of  the 
enemy,  pies,  bread,  pickles,  meat,  and  everything  they 
could  raise." 

At  Winchester  the  contest  was  sharp  and  short. 
At  daylight  of  the  25th  of  May,  the  Confederates  left 
their  camp  and  began  the  assault.  The  Federals  held 
a  strong  position  on  a  lofty  hill  that  completely  com- 
manded the  city;  to  drive  them  from  this  position  was 
the  first  task  of  the  Confederates,  and  it  was  quickly 
accomplished.  Then  the  Federals,  seeing  the  impor- 
tance of  the  position  they  had  lost,  set  about  retaking 
it.  Two  Union  batteries  secured  good  positions  and 
began  to  pound  away  at  Jackson's  line,  while  a  regi- 
ment of  sharpshooters  found  shelter  behind  a  stone 
wall,  and  with  unerring  aim  began  picking  off  Jack- 
son's cannoneers.  One  of  the  Confederate  batteries 
was  driven  back  by  the  persistent  fire  of  the  sharp- 
shooters, who  shot  down  the  horses  and  the  gunners 
almost  as  fast  as  they  were  exposed.  The  artillery- 
men turned  their  guns  on  the  stone  wall,  and  with  solid 
shot  made  the  stones  fly;  but  the  sharpshooters  still 
held  their  ground,  and  made  the  vicinity  one  of  ex- 
treme peril  for  the  men  in  gray. 

Finding  that  the  Confederates  were  not  to  be  driven 
away  by  artillery  fire  alone,  the  Federals  massed  their 
troops  for  an  assault.  Jackson  prepared  to  meet  them 
half-way.  When  the  shock  came,  the  superiority  of 
the  Confederates  was  only  too  apparent,  and  the  Fed- 
erals did  not  renew  the  attack.  General  Banks,  who 
had  already  concluded  that  he  was  hopelessly  outnum- 
bered, gave  the  order  to  retreat.  The  line  of  retreat 
lay  through  the  streets  of  the  town  of  Winchester,  and 
the  people  were  not  chary  of  showing  their  hatred  for 


362         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

the  blue-coats.  "  My  retreating  columns,"  said  Banks, 
in  his  report,  "  suffered  serious  loss  in  the  streets  of 
Winchester.  Males  and  females  vied  with  each  other 
in  increasing  the  number  of  their  victims  by  firing  from 
the  houses,  throwing  hand-grenades,  hot  water,  and 
missiles  of  every  description."  Once  out  of  the  streets 
of  Winchester  the  weary  soldiers  pressed  on  to  the 
northward,  scarcely  halting  until  they  reached  the  bank 
of  the  Potomac  River. 

As  far  as  the  Potomac  the  fleeing  Union  troops  were 
pursued.  Then  the  Confederates  turned  and  marched 
back  as  fast  as  they  could  go.  Washington  was  in  a 
panic.  Fremont  and  Shields  with  twenty  thousand 
men  between  them  were  ordered  to  make  all  speed  to 
the  valley,  fall  on  the  rear  of  the  conquering  Confeder- 
ate, supposed  still  to  be  advancing,  and  destroy  him 
before  he  could  reach  the  capital.  Thus  for  the  second 
time  troops  making  ready  to  go  to  McClellan's  aid 
were  called  away  to  cope  with  "  Old  Jack."  But 
they  reached  the  valley  just  too  late  to  take  him  at  a 
disadvantage.  Heavy  fighting  went  on  for  some  days 
during  which  Jackson  suffered  a  heavy  loss  in  the  death 
of  his  chief  cavalry  leader,  Ashby,  the  man  whose  skill 
interposed  between  Jackson's  army  and  the  enemy  a 
screen  of  cavalry  which  effectually  hid  his  swift  opera- 
tions. 

Ashby  was  the  beau  ideal  of  a  dashing  cavalier.  He 
seemed  to  have  no  dread  of  death;  he  positively 
courted  danger.  At  Bolivar  Heights,  when  his  can- 
noneers were  shot  down,  and  the  enemy  with  trium- 
phant shouts  were  rushing  forward  to  capture  his  guns, 
he  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  with  his  own  hands 
wielded  the  sponge-staff,  and  loaded  and  fired  the  guns 
until  the  foe  were  driven  back.  At  Boteler's  Mill, 
when  the  singing  of  the  bullets  made  his  men  uneasy, 
he  rode  his  white  horse  to  the  most  exposed  point,  and 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      363 

stood  there  immovable,  a  model  for  them  to  copy. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  with  eleven  men  he 
charged  a  company  of  one  hundred,  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  rescue  his  brother,  who  was  killed  before  his  very 
eyes. 

Fremont  and  Shields  were  now  in  Jackson's  front, 
but  separated.  He  determined  to  fall  upon  Shields 
first  and  prevent  a  junction  which  would  have  made 
the  Union  army  superior  to  that  of  the  Confederates. 
But  Fremont  moved  first,  fell  upon  Ewell,  Jackson's 
division  commander  and  was  beaten.  The  next  morn- 
ing Jackson  and  Ewell  together  moved  upon  Shields. 

It  was  a  little  after  sunrise  that  the  battle  of  Port 
Republic  began.  Shields  had  taken  a  strong  position, 
his  right  flank  resting  upon  the  river,  which  at  that 
point  is  so  deep  and  edged  with  such  impassable 
thickets  as  to  completely  prevent  the  passage  of 
troops.  His  left  flank  rested  on  a  wooded  ridge,  and 
here,  and  at  other  places  along  the  line  where  slight 
elevations  offered  advantageous  points  for  artillery, 
heavy  batteries  were  posted.  In  front  of  the  Union 
line  of  battle  extended  a  broad  field  of  waving  grain. 
Thus  strongly  posted,   Shields   awaited  the  attack. 

The  "  Stonewall  Brigade "  led  in  the  assault. 
Proudly,  with  gleaming  bayonets,  marching  under  the 
flag  of  Virginia,  with  its  brigade  commander,  General 
Winder  and  General  Jackson  riding  side  by  side,  it 
advanced.  The  enemy's  pickets  were  met  and  driven 
in;  but  a  few  yards'  further  advance  brought  the 
Virginians  in  range  of  the  Union  batteries.  The 
plateau  across  which  the  Confederates  had  to  ad- 
vance was  swept  with  grapeshot  and  bursting  shells. 
The  men  recoiled  from  the  task.  The  Confederate 
artillery  was  brought  up  and  turned  against  the 
Union  batteries;  but  the  latter  were  equipped  with 
rifled   cannon,    and   were   beyond   the   range   of   the 


364         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Confederate  smooth-bores.  Winder  saw  that  the 
artillery  duel  was  going  against  him  and  ordered 
a  charge.  Gallantly  the  Virginians  pressed  forward 
across  an  unsheltered  field,  and  into  the  teeth  of  a  mur- 
derous field  of  shell,  canister,  and  small-arms.  Great 
gaps  appeared  in  the  lines.  Men  dropped  on  every 
side.  It  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  stand, 
and  the  advancing  line  first  slackened  its  pace,  then 
stood  still,  and  then  drifted  back,  a  disorganized, 
broken  rabble,  to  seek  shelter  in  the  woods.  Then,  in 
their  turn,  the  Federals  advanced.  Infantry  and  ar- 
tillery came  forward  on  the  run.  The  Confederates, 
disheartened  by  their  reverses,  were  retreating,  when 
Jackson  came  galloping  to  the  scene. 

M  The  Stonewall  Brigade  never  retreats !  "  he 
shouted.     "  Follow  me !  " 

The  sight  of  their  leader  and  the  sound  of  his 
voice  checked  the  growing  panic  in  the  Confederate 
ranks.  Gallantly  they  held  their  ground.  In  a  mo- 
ment reinforcements  came.  General  Dick  Taylor's 
brigade  of  Louisianians  came  bursting  through  the 
woods.  Jackson  rode  up  to  Taylor  and  pointed  out 
the  Union  battery,  which  was  again  belching  forth  shot 
and  shell: 

"  Can  you  take  that  battery?  "  said  he;  u  it  must  be 
taken  I  " 

Taylor  wheeled  his  horse  and  galloped  to  the  centre 
of  his  line. 

"  Louisianians !  "  he  shouted,  "  can  you  take  that 
battery?" 

A  cheer  was  the  response,  and  putting  himself  at 
the  head  of  his  column  Taylor  led  the  way.  The 
ground  was  rugged  and  much  obstructed  by  logs  and 
stumps.  All  semblance  of  alignment  was  lost. 
Every  man  knew  the  point  to  be  reached,  and  each 
strove  to  get  there,  giving  little  thought  to  his  neigh- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       365 

bor.  The  Federals  loaded  and  fired  with  wonderful 
speed  and  with  frightful  accuracy.  Men  were  mowed 
down  like  grass.  "  They  advanced,"  said  an  eye- 
witness, "  in  the  midst  of  one  incessant  storm  of  grape, 
canister,  and  shell,  literally  covering  the  valley."  At 
last  the  crest  of  the  hill  is  reached.  One  more  deadly 
discharge  bursts  from  the  smoking  muzzles  of  the 
Federal  guns,  then  the  gunners,  seeing  the  enemy's 
advance  still  unchecked,  turned  despairingly  to  flee. 
With  loud  cheers  the  Confederates  rushed  upon  them. 
Their  bayonets  made  havoc  among  the  escaping  Fed- 
erals. The  captured  guns  were  turned  on  their  for- 
mer owners.     The  Federal  retreat  fast  became  a  rout. 

"  Jackson  came  up  with  intense  light  in  his  eyes," 
writes  General  Taylor,  "  grasped  my  hand,  and  said 
the  brigade  should  have  the  captured  battery.  I 
thought  the  men  would  go  mad  with  cheering  especially 
the  Irishmen.  A  huge  fellow,  with  one  eye  closed 
and  half  his  whiskers  burned  with  powder,  was  riding 
cock-horse  on  a  gun,  and  catching  my  attention  yelled 
out,  '  We  told  you  to  bet  on  your  boys.'  " 

So  fierce  and  bitter  was  the  fighting  about  this  bat- 
tery that  gradually  both  commanders  withdrew  all 
their  men  from  the  other  parts  of  the  field  and  con- 
centrated them  there.  But,  though  the  utmost  gal- 
lantry was  shown  on  both  sides,  the  superior  numbers 
of  the  Confederates  soon  decided  the  contest.  They 
outnumbered  the  Federals  three  to  one,  and  so  soon 
as  all  were  brought  into  effective  use  the  Federal  re- 
sistance was  crushed,  and  Shields  had  naught  left  him 
but  retreat.  This  he  did  in  fairly  good  order.  Just 
as  the  fate  of  the  battle  was  decided,  Fremont  came 
up  from  Cross  Keys  in  hot  haste,  with  reinforcements 
that  might  have  turned  the  scale  had  he  been  able  to 
take  his  troops  into  action.  But  Jackson's  rear-guard 
had  burned  the  bridges  across  the  Shenandoah,   and 


366         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Fremont  suffered  the  experience  of  seeing  Shields's 
army  cut  to  pieces  before  his  very  eyes,  while  he  was 
unable  to  lend  his  brother  officer  the  slightest  aid. 

The  battle  of  Port  Republic  was  one  of  the  most 
hotly  contested  of  the  war.  In  it  the  Federals  lost 
1,002  men,  and  the  Confederates  657.  Great  gal- 
lantry was  shown  by  the  soldiers  of  both  armies,  and 
the  victory  of  the  Confederates  was  due  largely,  if  not 
wholly,  to  the  comparative  weakness  of  the  force  op- 
posed to  them. 

With  this  battle  ends  the  narrative  of  Jackson's 
valley  campaign.  Upon  it  rests  largely  his  fame  as  a 
soldier  and  a  general.  His  rapid  marches,  his  quick 
decisions,  his  prompt  acceptance  of  dangerous  chances, 
his  quick  comprehension  of  what  his  enemy's  tactics 
were  likely  to  be,  are  apparent  throughout.  And,  if 
not  methods  but  results  are  to  be  considered  in  judg- 
ing the  value  of  his  work,  let  it  be  remembered  that 
he  was  sent  to  the  valley  solely  in  order  to  keep 
McDowell  from  moving  on  Richmond.  Had  he  ac- 
complished this  task,  and  lost  his  own  army,  his  suc- 
cess would  have  been  applauded.  As  it  was,  he  ac- 
complished the  task,  saved  his  own  army  by  the  two 
victories  at  Cross  Keys  and  Port  Republic,  and  took 
that  army  to  Richmond  to  aid  in  beating  off  the  foe 
that  was  already  at  the  gates  of  the  Confederate 
capital. 

During  the  last  weeks  of  Jackson's  manoeuvring  in 
the  Shenandoah  Valley  McClellan  was  resting  quietly 
in  his  camps  along  the  Chickahominy  waiting  for 
McDowell,  who  never  came.  General  Robert  E.  Lee 
had  succeeded  to  the  command  of  the  Confederate 
armies,  General  Johnston  having  been  severely 
wounded  on  the  second  day  at  Seven  Pines.  Lee  was 
one  of  America's  truly  great  citizens.  A  Virginian 
by  birth,  his  family  was  closely  connected  with  George 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       367 

Washington,  in  whose  army  his  father  had  served  during 
the  Revolution.  He  was  himself  a  graduate  of  West 
Point,  a  veteran  of  the  Mexican  war  and  a  protege 
of  General  Winfield  Scott.  No  secessionist  himself, 
he  reluctantly  elected  to  follow  his  state  when  she 
went  out  of  the  Union,  becoming  not  merely  her 
ablest  general,  but  one  of  the  great  military  geniuses 
of  history.  His  was,  moreover,  one  of  the  noblest 
and  most  elevated  characters  the  world  had  ever 
known. 

Lee  at  once  determined  to  attack  the  Federals,  and 
first  to  send  for  Jackson.  But  he  wanted  this  move- 
ment to  remain  a  secret  until  the  attack  was  actually 
delivered.  Accordingly  he  began  elaborate  plans  by 
which  to  deceive  the  enemy.  Two  brigades  were 
taken  from  the  trenches  before  Richmond  and  loaded 
on  trains  bound  ostensibly  for  the  Shenandoah  Valley. 
But  the  trains  were  mysteriously  blocked  all  day  hard 
by  Belle  Isle  where  some  thousands  of  Federal  prison- 
ers were  held.  The  Richmond  papers  roared  fiercely 
about  the  "  blunder."  They  declared  that  the  news 
of  the  reenforcement  of  Jackson  would  certainly  reach 
Washington.  They  were  quite  right.  That  was  part 
of  Lee's  plan.  When  there  was  ample  time  for  the 
news  to  get  out  the  troops  were  disembarked  a  few 
miles  out  in  the  country  and  kept  in  readiness  to  re- 
turn to  the  trenches. 

Jackson  for  his  part  was  engaging  in  a  like  game 
with  the  Federals. 

After  the  battle  of  Port  Republic  the  Federals  left 
a  large  number  of  wounded  at  Harrisonburg.  Several 
Federal  surgeons,  with  a  train  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
ambulances,  were  sent  back  after  the  wounded;  but 
Colonel  Munford,  the  officer  in  command  of  the  Con- 
federates, who  had  taken  possession  of  the  place,  re- 
fused to  deliver  them  up  until  he  could  hear  from 


368         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Jackson.  He  promised,  however,  to  send  a  courier 
to  Jackson  at  once,  and  in  the  meantime  gave  the  sur- 
geons accommodations  in  a  room  adjoining  his  head- 
quarters, and  separated  therefrom  by  only  a  thin  par- 
tition. After  a  delay  of  some  hours  the  surgeons 
heard  the  courier  coming  upstairs  with  clanking  sabre 
and  heavy  tread.  They  eagerly  put  their  ears  to  the 
partition. 

"  Well,"  said  Colonel  Munford,  "  what  did  General 
Jackson  say?" 

"  He  told  me  to  tell  you,"  answered  the  courier, 
in  stentorian  tones,  "  that  the  wounded  Yankees  are 
not  to  be  taken  away.  He  is  coming  right  on  him- 
self with  heavy  reinforcements.  Whiting's  division 
is  up.  Hood's  is  coming.  The  whole  road  from  here 
to  Staunton  is  perfectly  lined  with  troops,  and  so 
crowded  that  I  could  hardly  ride  along." 

With  this  important  news  the  Federal  surgeons  re- 
turned to  their  camp,  chuckling  over  the  thought  of 
how  they  had  discovered  the  enemy's  intentions.  And 
that  night  Fremont  fell  back  and  began  to  intrench 
in  preparation  for  the  attack;  while  Jackson,  for  his 
part,  was  leading  his  famous  foot  cavalry  eastward, 
and  had  turned  his  back  on  Fremont  and  the  Shenan- 
doah Valley. 

Galloping  far  ahead  of  his  army  Jackson  reached 
General  Lee's  headquarters  on  the  23d  of  June.  A 
hurried  council  of  war  was  called  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  attack  McClellan's  right  wing  on  the  26th 
at  Mechanicsville,  close  to  Richmond.  Jackson  was 
to  open  the  battle,  the  divisions  of  A.  P.  Hill,  Long- 
street,  and  D.  H.  Hill  to  go  into  action  as  soon  as 
they  found  he  was  engaged.  But  when  the  day  and 
hour  came  Jackson  was  missing,  one  of  the  few  occa- 
sions when  he  had  failed  to  move  and  act  in  complete 
accordance  with  orders.     A  road  heavily  blocked  by 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      369 

felled  trees  delayed  him,  and  he  reached  the  battle- 
field too  late  to  join  in  the  action.  A.  P.  Hill,  after 
waiting  until  three  o'clock  for  the  expected  signal, 
could  restrain  his  men  no  longer  and  determined  to 
attack.  It  would  have  been  better  had  he  waited 
longer  and  reconnoitred  more  precisely.  His  antago- 
nists occupied  an  almost  impregnable  position.  In 
their  front  flowed  Beaver  Dam  Creek,  a  sluggish 
stream  about  waist-deep,  and  bordered  by  swamps  and 
bits  of  high  ground  alternately.  On  the  east  side  of 
this  creek  the  Federals  had  a  long  line  of  earthworks 
and  rifle-pits.  Not  one  bridge  had  been  left  spanning 
the  creek,  and  along  its  eastern  bank  trees  had  been 
felled,  making  the  difficult  approach  to  it  still  more 
difficult.  More  than  eight  thousand  men  and  five 
strong  batteries  defended  the  Union  line.  A  wise 
commander  would  have  recognized  the  folly  of  allow- 
ing men  to  throw  their  lives  away  in  charging  such 
a  position.  But  A.  P.  Hill  hurled  his  regiments  into 
the  teeth  of  the  Union  fire,  only  to  see  them  decimated 
by  that  hail  of  shot  and  shell. 

The  story  of  the  battle  of  Mechanicsville  is  soon 
told.  "  The  enemy  had  intrenchments  of  great 
strength  and  development  on  the  other  side  of  the 
creek,"  writes  General  D.  H.  Hill,  "  and  had  lined 
the  banks  with  his  magnificent  artillery.  The  ap- 
proach was  over  an  open  plain,  exposed  to  a  murder- 
ous fire  of  all  arms,  and  across  an  almost  impassable 
stream.  The  result  was,  as  might  have  been  foreseen, 
a  bloody  and  disastrous  repulse.  Nearly  every  field- 
officer  in  the  brigade  was  killed  or  wounded.  It  was 
unfortunate  for  the  Confederates  that  the  crossing 
was  begun  before  Jackson  got  in  the  rear  of  Mechan- 
icsville. The  loss  of  that  position  would  have  neces- 
sitated the  abandonment  of  the  line  of  Beaver  Dam 
Creek,  as  in  fact  it  did  the  next  day.     We  were  lavish 


370         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

of  blood  in  those  days,  and  it  was  thought  to  be  a 
great  thing  to  charge  a  battery  of  artillery  or  an 
earthwork  lined  with  infantry." 

Jackson  failing  to  attack  the  Federals  on  the  flank 
the  day  was  lost  to  the  Confederates,  who  lost  in  the 
action  nearly  1,600  men  and  won  no  substantial  ad- 
vantage. The  battle  of  Mechanicsville  will  long 
be  remembered  by  the  wearers  of  the  gray  as  one  of 
their  most  desperate  and  most  discouraging  battles. 
With  it  began  that  series  of  sharp  and  strenuous  con- 
flicts, with  victory  now  perching  on  one  side  and  then 
upon  the  other,  that  determined  the  fate  of  McClel- 
lan's  Peninsular  campaign,  and  that  is  known  as  the 
Seven  Days'  Battles.  Mechanicsville  was  fought  on 
the  26th  of  June,  the  battle  of  Malvern  Hill  on  July 
1.  In  so  short  a  time  as  this  were  all  the  gigantic 
preparations  of  the  Federals  for  the  capture  of  Rich- 
mond wrecked. 

When  darkness  put  an  end  to  the  fighting  at  Beaver 
Dam  Creek  the  Confederates  withdrew  beyond  the 
range  of  the  Union  guns,  and  made  preparations  to 
renew  the  attack  in  the  morning.  About  the  Federal 
headquarters  all  was  life  and  bustle.  Scouts  were 
coming  in,  bringing  news  of  Jackson's  arrival. 
Deserters  arrived,  telling  of  the  great  preparations  the 
Confederates  were  making  for  an  attack  in  force  the 
next  day.  By  one  o'clock  that  night  McClellan  was 
so  convinced  of  the  seriousness  of  his  position  that  he 
ordered  the  line  at  Beaver  Dam  Creek  abandoned, 
and  a  new  line  formed  six  miles  to  the  rear.  Before 
sunrise  the  change  was  effected,  while  a  battery  or 
two  and  a  handful  of  skirmishers  left  in  the  earth- 
works kept  up  a  scattering  fire  to  make  the  Confed- 
erates believe  that  the  whole  Federal  army  still  con- 
fronted them. 

The  new  line  chosen  by  the  Federals  was  hardly  so 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      371 

strong  as  the  position  on  Beaver  Dam  Creek,  but  was, 
nevertheless,  a  strong  position.  A  shallow,  muddy 
rivulet,  Powhite  Creek,  flowed  at  the  base  of  a  semi- 
circular range  of  hills,  upon  the  crest  of  which  the 
Federals  had  thrown  up  earthworks  and  built  barriers 
of  logs.  The  artillery  in  the  breastworks  could  do 
good  service,  for  the  ground  in  front  was  clear  of  trees, 
and  no  underbrush  was  there  to  protect  an  advancing 
foe  from  the  deadly  aim  of  the  cannoneers. 

Not  far  from  the  Union  lines  stood  a  large  grist- 
mill, one  of  the  largest  and  finest  in  Virginia,  and 
known  far  and  wide  as  "  Gaines's  Mill."  Still  nearer 
the  Union  lines  was  a  little  settlement  called  Cool 
Arbor,  known  somewhat  to  Virginians  as  a  summer 
resort.  From  each  of  these  places  the  battle  had 
derived  a  name,  being  called  in  the  Union  reports  the 
battle  of  Gaines's  Mill,  while  the  Confederates  called 
it  the  battle  of  Cool  Arbor. 

In  command  of  the  Federal  forces  at  Gaines's  Mill 
was  General  Fitz-John  Porter.  He  had  before  him 
the  task  of  checking  the  Confederate  advance  along 
the  north  bank  of  the  Chickahominy  until  General 
McClellan  should  have  accomplished  the  difficult  and 
dangerous  feat  of  transferring  his  base  of  supplies 
from  White  House,  on  the  Pamunkey  River,  to  a  point 
on  the  James  River.  How  difficult  an  undertaking  this 
was,  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  over  five  thou- 
sand wagons,  loaded  with  stores  of  all  kinds,  and  live 
cattle  to  the  number  of  2,500,  had  to  be  taken  across 
the  muddy,  swampy  peninsula.  It  was,  of  course,  of 
the  first  importance  that  a  strong  and  determined 
force  should  stand  between  this  long  train  of  muni- 
tions of  war  and  the  enemy,  and  it  was  at  Gaines's  Mill 
that  this  check  was  interposed. 

Porter's  line  at  Gaines's  Mill  was  in  the  form  of  a 
semicircle,  Morrill's  division  being  on  the  right,  and 


372         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Sykes's  division  upon  the  left.  In  front  of  the  line 
was  a  narrow  gully,  or  ravine,  well  filled  with  sharp- 
shooters lurking  behind  trees  and  rocks.  Of  the 
troops  that  made  up  Porter's  command  a  great  num- 
ber were  regulars,  and  in  the  battle  which  ensued  the 
superiority  of  these  well-drilled  soldiers  over  the  ordi- 
nary volunteer  was  made  apparent. 

General  A.  P.  Hill  opened  the  battle,  leading  his 
soldiers  with  great  gallantry  against  the  left  of  the 
Federal  line.  The  battle  was  fought  in  the  woods,  the 
troops  manoeuvring  with  difficulty  among  the  count- 
less tree  trunks,  and  the  artillery  doing  as  much 
damage  by  the  splinters  struck  from  the  trees  by  the 
flying  missiles  as  by  the  cannon-balls  themselves. 
Once,  three  Confederate  regiments  reached  the  crest  of 
the  hill,  and  for  a  moment  the  victory  hung  wavering 
in  the  balance;  but  the  dogged  obstinacy  and  pluck  of 
the  Federal  regulars,  and  the  rapidity  and  accuracy 
with  which  they  served  their  guns,  checked  the  ad- 
vance of  the  assailants,  and  with  a  quick  charge  the 
Federals  regained  the  ground  which  they  had  so  nearly 
lost. 

General  Longstreet  now  took  up  the  attack,  and 
when  Hill,  after  an  hour  or  more  of  inaction,  returned 
to  the  assault,  the  battle  raged  fiercely  all  along  the 
line.  At  all  points  the  tide  of  battle  seemed  setting 
against  the  Confederates.  Despite  their  repeated 
charges  they  had  wholly  failed  to  pierce  the  Union 
line.  Their  regiments  were  getting  decimated.  The 
afternoon  passed  rapidly  away.  Evening  was  draw- 
ing near,  and  it  looked  as  though  the  sun  would  set 
on  a  day  which  should  rival  the  day  of  the  battle  at 
Mechanicsville  as  a  complete  and  disastrous  defeat  for 
the  Confederate  cause. 

General  Lee  had  come  in  person  to  the  field.  As 
he  rode  through  the  woods  he  saw  how  grave  was  the 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       373 

situation  and  how  great  the  danger  of  defeat.  One 
thing  alone  can  save  the  day  for  the  Confederates, 
and  that  is  the  arrival  of  Jackson,  with  his  troops, 
upon  the  field  before  sundown.  Suddenly,  over  on 
the  far  left  of  the  Confederate  line,  arises  the  noise 
of  artillery;  then  comes  the  rattle  of  small  arms.  The 
noise  increases  until  it  becomes  evident  that  a  fierce 
battle  is  raging  in  that  quarter.  The  men  of  Hill's 
and  Longstreet's  divisions  cheer  lustily,  and  turn  with 
renewed  vigor  to  their  work,  for  they  know  that  Jack- 
son has  arrived.  General  Lee  puts  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  gallops  off  in  the  direction  of  the  cannonading. 
He  meets  Jackson  at  the  edge  of  a  wood. 

"  Ah,  General,"  said  Lee,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you.     I  hoped  to  have  been  with  you  before." 

Jackson  acknowledged  the  salutation  with  his  usual 
impassive  bow.  He  was  mounted  on  his  lean  old 
sorrel  steed.  His  uniform  was  dingy  and  stained  with 
dust.  His  old  fatigue-cap  was  pulled  down  over  his 
eyes.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  lemon,  at  which  he  was 
sucking,  with  his  whole  mind  evidently  concentrated 
upon  the  military  problem  with  which  he  had  to 
deal. 

Lee  was  trimly,  even  elegantly,  dressed,  and  acutely 
alert  to  all  the  sounds  and  signs  of  battle.  The  sound 
of  the  firing  along  Jackson's  lines  seemed  to  disquiet 
him,  and  he  said  to  Jackson: 

14  That  fire  is  very  heavy.  Do  you  think  your  men 
can  stand  it?  " 

"They  can  stand  almost  anything,"  was  Jackson's 
response;  then,  after  listening  a  moment  to  the  noise 
of  battle,  he  added,  "  Yes,  they  can  stand  that." 

Up  to  the  hour  of  Jackson's  arrival  the  battle  had 
been  going  against  the  Confederates.  Many  of  A. 
P.  Hill's  soldiers  were  raw  recruits  brought  up  from 
Georgia  and  the  Gulf  States.     Before  the  fire  of  the 


374         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Union  regulars  these  men  fell  into  a  panic.  After 
Hill  had  been  engaged  for  two  hours  with  the  centre 
of  the  Union  line  he  found  his  troops  melting  away. 
M  Men  were  leaving  the  field  in  every  direction  and 
in  great  disorder,"  said  the  Confederate  General 
Whiting,  in  his  report.  "  Two  regiments,  one  from 
South  Carolina  and  one  from  Louisiana,  were  actually 
marching  back  from  the  fire.  Men  were  skulking 
from  the  front  in  a  shameful  manner."  It  was  at  this 
juncture  that  Jackson  arrived,  and  by  his  arrival 
changed  the  tide  of  battle. 

The  veterans  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley  swung 
into  the  Confederate  line  of  battle,  between  the  divi- 
sions of  A.  P.  Hill  and  D.  H.  Hill.  It  was  the  most 
hazardous  spot  upon  the  whole  line.  Before  them 
stretched  a  level,  open  plain,  full  quarter  of  a  mile 
wide,  and  swept  by  the  fire  of  the  enemy's  artillery 
and  sharpshooters.  At  the  edge  of  this  plain  rose 
the  sharp  declivity  called  Turkey  Hill,  sixty  feet  high 
and  steep  of  ascent.  On  the  crest  of  the  hill  were 
the  Federal  batteries.  On  the  slope  of  the  hill,  be- 
neath the  muzzles  of  the  cannon  were  lines  of  infantry 
sheltered  behind  temporary  breastworks  of  logs,  fence 
rails,  and  knapsacks. 

Against  this  wall  of  determined  men  Jackson  hurled 
his  regiments.  More  than  once  they  advanced  across 
the  plain,  almost  to  the  foot  of  Turkey  Hill,  only  to  be 
swept  away  by  the  merciless  storm  of  lead  and  iron  from 
the  serrated  lines  on  the  hill.  Once  under  the  shelter 
of  the  woods  they  would  form  again,  march  out  once 
more  with  cheers  and  high  hopes,  only  to  be  again 
swept  back  in  confusion. 

It  was  dusk  when  the  last  desperate  charge  that 
pierced  the  Union  line  was  made.  General  Whiting's 
division,  which  held  the  right  of  Jackson's  line,  and 
was  made  up  largely  of  Texans,  won  the  honors  of 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS      375 

the  day.  Let  one  of  the  Texans  who  joined  in  that 
mad  rush  across  the  shot-swept  plain  and  up  the  front 
of  Turkey  Hill  tell  the  story : 

After  remaining  in  the  rear,  lying  down  for  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  General  Hood  came  for  us,  and,  moving  by  the  right  flank 
about  half  a  mile,  halted  us  in  an  open  space  to  the  right  of  some 
timber,  and  in  rear  of  an  apple  orchard.  The  sight  which  we  here 
beheld  beggars  description.  The  ground  was  strewn  with  the  dead 
and  dying,  while  our  ranks  were  broken  every  instant  by  flying  and 
panic-stricken  soldiers.  In  front  of  us  was  the  "  Old  3d  Brigade," 
who,  but  a  few  moments  before,  had  started  with  cheers  to  storm 
the  fatal  palisade.  But  the  storm  of  lead  and  iron  was  too  severe; 
they  wavered  for  a  moment  and  fell  upon  the  ground.  At  this 
instant  General  Hood,  who  had  in  person  taken  command  of  our 
regiment,  commanded  in  his  clear,  ringing  voice :  "  Forward,  quick, 
march !  "  and  onward  moved  the  little  band  of  five  hundred  with 
the  coolness  of  veterans.  Here  Colonel  Marshall  fell  dead  from 
his  horse,  pierced  by  a  minie-ball.  Volleys  of  musketry  and 
showers  of  grape,  canister,  and  shell  ploughed  through  us,  but  were 
only  answered  by  the  stern  "  Close  up — close  up  to  the  colors !  " 
and  onward  we  rushed  over  the  dead  and  dying,  without  a  pause, 
until  within  about  one  hundred  yards  of  the  breastworks.  We  had 
reached  the  apex  of  the  hill,  and  some  of  the  men,  seeing  the 
enemy  just  before  them,  commenced  discharging  their  pieces.  It 
was  at  this  point  that  the  preceding  brigades  had  halted,  and 
beyond  which  none  had  gone  in  consequence  of  the  terrible  con- 
centrated fire  of  the  concealed  enemy.  At  this  critical  juncture 
the  voice  of  General  Hood  was  heard  above  the  din  of  battle: 
"  Forward,  forward !  charge  right  down  upon  them,  and  drive  them 
out  with  the  bayonet ! "  Fixing  bayonets  as  they  moved,  they 
made  one  grand  rush  for  the  fort ;  down  the  hill ;  across  the  creek 
and  fallen  timber,  and  the  next  minute  saw  our  battle-flag  planted 
upon  the  captured  breastwork.  The  enemy,  frightened  at  the 
rapid  approach  of  pointed  steel,  rose  from  behind  their  defences 
and  started  up  the  hill  at  full  speed.  One  volley  was  poured  into 
their  backs,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  ball  found  a  victim,  so  great 
was  the  slaughter.  Their  works  were  ours,  and  as  our  flag  moved 
from  the  first  to  the  second  tier  of  defences  a  shout  arose  from 
the  shattered  remnant  of  that  regiment,  which  will  long  be  remem- 
bered by  those  that  heard  it, — a  shout  which  announced  that  the 
wall  of  death  was  broken,  and  victory  which  for  hours  had 
hovered  doubtfully  over  that  bloody  field,  had  at  length  perched 
upon  the  battle-flag  of  the  Fourth  Texas.  Right  and  left  it  was 
taken  up  and  ran  along  the  lines  for  miles;  long  after  many  of 
those  who  had  started  it  were  in  eternity. 


376         STORY   OF   OUR   ARMY 

Few  battles  of  the  war  were  more  hotly  contested 
than  this  fight  at  Gaines's  Mill.  The  Federals  lost  in 
killed,  894;  wounded,  3,107;  missing,  2,836, — total, 
6,837.  The  loss  of  the  Confederates  has  never  been 
exactly  determined,  but  was  about  equal  to  that  of  the 
Federals. 

McClellan's  army  as  a  whole  was  now  in  full  retreat 
toward  his  new  base  at  Harrison's  Landing.  His 
troops  were  constantly  harassed  by  General  Magruder, 
although,  as  the  retiring  Federals  burned  all  the 
bridges  across  the  Chickahominy  and  tore  up  the  roads 
through  the  swamps,  the  main  body  of  Lee's  army 
could  not  come  up  to  them.  Magruder  had  but 
twenty-five  thousand  men  but  with  these  he  forced  the 
Federals  to  fight  at  Allen's  farm,  Savage's  Station,  and 
other  points,  always  being  beaten  back  but  still  adding 
to  the  difficulties  of  McClellan's  retreat.  Though 
there  was  no  rout,  nor  anything  approaching  one,  the 
withdrawal  of  the  Union  forces  was  accompanied  by  a 
tremendous  sacrifice  of  stores  and  munitions  of  war. 
One  who  followed  the  retreating  army  wrote: 

The  whole  country  was  full  of  deserted  plunder.  Army  wagons 
and  pontoon  trains  partially  burned  or  crippled;  mounds  of  grain 
and  rice  and  hillocks  of  dressed  beef  smouldering;  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  axes,  picks,  and  shovels;  camp-kettles  gashed  with 
hatchets;  medicine-chests  with  their  drugs  stirred  into  a  foul 
medley,  and  all  the  apparatus  of  a  vast  and  lavish  host;  while  the 
mire  under  foot  was  mixed  with  blankets  lately  new,  and  with 
overcoats  torn  from  the  waist  up.  For  weeks  afterward  agents 
of  our  army  were  busy  in  gathering  in  the  spoils.  Great  stores 
of  fixed  ammunition  were  saved,  while  more  were  destroyed. 

The  final  stand  of  the  Federal  army  was  at  Mal- 
vern Hill  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  James  River. 
The  position  selected  was  exceedingly  strong.  Both 
flanks  were  protected  by  rivers  and  the  front  was  on 
a   commanding  plateau  swept  by  artillery,  while  be- 


FOR  YOUNG  AMERICANS       377 

yond  this  open  plain  the  ground  was  swampy,  densely 
overgrown,  and  almost  impassable.  Lee  expected  to 
shatter  the  enemy's  line  with  artillery  and  follow  with 
charges  of  heavy  masses  of  troops.  But  the  artillery 
proved  ineffective — so  much  so  that  at  three  o'clock 
Lee  thought  of  abandoning  the  assault,  but  later,  mis- 
led by  some  movements  of  the  Union  line,  sent  in  one 
division  after  another  to  defeat  and  death.  The 
troops  were  willing  enough  to  undertake  the  most 
perilous  feats,  and  their  leaders,  from  Lee  down,  were 
merciless  in  sending  them  into  the  deadly  field  of  car- 
nage. The  colonel  of  a  regiment  in  Jackson's  division 
who  had  been  ordered  to  storm  a  Federal  battery 
ventured  to  protest. 

"  Did  you  order  me  to  advance  on  that  field,  sir?  " 
he  asked  of  his  commander. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jackson  curtly,  his  steel-blue  eyes 
flashing  with  a  suggestion  of  impending  wrath. 

"Impossible,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  officer.  "  My 
men  will  be  annihilated!  Nothing  in  the  world  can 
live  there.     They  will  be  annihilated!" 

"  Sir,"  answered  Jackson  steadily,  looking  the  officer 
full  in  the  face,  "  I  always  endeavor  to  take  care  of 
my  wounded  and  bury  my  dead.  You  have  heard  my 
order, — obey  it." 

The  charge  was  made,  but  it  was  as  fruitless  as  those 
that  had  gone  before.  Despite  repeated  charges  the 
day  was  lost  to  the  Confederates.  They  had  lost  over 
five  thousand  men,  the  Federals  not  one-third  as  many. 

At  nightfall  McClellan  issued  orders  for  his  troops 
to  fall  back  to  Harrison's  Landing.  There  was 
bitter  criticism  of  the  order  then  and  later.  Many 
thought  the  Confederates  so  demoralized  that  McClel- 
lan might  have  re-formed  his  ranks  the  next  day  and 
fought  his  way  right  into  Richmond.  His  foremost 
officers  were  astonished.     Fitz-John  Porter  protested 


378         STORY   OF   OUR  ARMY 

warmly.  The  impetuous  Kearny  burst  out  with  the 
indignant  assertion:  "I,  Philip  Kearny,  an  old  sol- 
dier, enter  my  solemn  protest  against  this  order  for  a 
retreat.  We  ought,  instead  of  retreating,  to  follow 
up  the  army  and  take  Richmond;  and  in  full  view  of 
all  the  responsibilities  of  such  a  declaration  I  can  say  to 
you  all,  such  an  order  can  only  be  prompted  by  coward- 
ice or  treason." 

Nevertheless  the  army  retired  as  ordered  and  re- 
mained quiescent  at  Harrison's  Landing  until  Halleck, 
succeeding  to  supreme  command,  ordered  it  back  to 
Washington  and  the  Peninsular  campaign  ended  with 
a  record  of  nothing  accomplished.  During  the  "  Seven 
Days'  Battles  "  McClellan  had  at  the  outset  105,000 
men,  and  Lee's  force  varied  between  80,000  and 
90,000  effectives.  The  Federals  lost  in  all  1,734 
killed,  8,062  wounded,  and  6,053  missing  or  captured; 
a  total  of  15,849.  The  Confederate  losses  were  3,286 
killed,  15,909  wounded,  and  940  missing  or  captured, 
a  total  of  20,135.  But  despite  their  great  preponder- 
ance of  killed  and  wounded  the  Confederates  had  saved 
their  capital. 


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